


The Second Conquest

by Valar_Ipradtis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valar_Ipradtis/pseuds/Valar_Ipradtis
Summary: In a mysterious turn of events, the remaining Kingsguards returned to King's Landing at the end of the Rebellion, and just managed to smuggle out the last Targaryen children as Tywin sacked the city.Fifteen years later, Aegon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys have returned to Westeros on the backs of three dragons, looking to reclaim what is theirs with Fire and Blood.The North has declared independence, but how will they defend their homes when dragons fly above their lands?-----Since the moment Rhaenys was a child, she swore to defeat all of their enemies and raise House Targaryen once more to the throne. Riding her dragon, Eliaxes, never again would she be as helpless as the day she watched her mother raped and murdered before her very eyes. All of Westeros would have to bow down to the might of their dragons, but one Northern bastard threatens to derail all of their plans and her vengeance.Everything in Rhaenys' mind tells her that she should hate this man with a passion, but just one look into those dark grey eyes, and she knew it was a lost cause.After all, we don't get to choose whom we love.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Daenerys Targaryen, Arthur Dayne/Elia Martell, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell, Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Talisa Maegyr/Robb Stark
Comments: 316
Kudos: 698





	1. Council

**King’s Landing**

The council room sat in silence as they waited for their King to arrive. A silent tension permeated the chamber, but the Lords gathered either pretended not to notice or distracted themselves with other matters. Not even half a year ago, many of these Lords stood on opposite sides of the battlefield. The War of the Five Kings had been a bloody one, and it had splintered Westeros once again into a fractured continent.

But now these Lords sat, gathered in King’s Landing, all having bent the knee. Some willingly, others more forcefully. But in the end, they all surrendered and pledged their fealty once again to the Iron Throne. Fear made it very difficult for the Lords to disobey any longer, and nothing inspired more fear than _Fire and Blood._

The wrath of House Targaryen came swiftly and furiously, conquering most of the continent in mere months. History was repeating itself as Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name, swept through Westeros atop his dragons with Rhaenys and Daenerys by his side. 

When the Lords of Westeros first heard whispers of Targaryen forces stirring to the East, they had easily dismissed the threat. Hard to imagine how a few children without any supporters can cross the Narrow Sea, let alone bring Westeros to its knees once again. 

_Mayhaps Robert had it right all along._ Stannis reminisced with a grimace. _The Targaryen children had grown up, and now they returned to claim what was theirs with Fire and Blood._

Stannis thought back to a moment more than a decade past during the end of the Rebellion. Whether it was out of mercy or weakness, Stannis had allowed the last living Targaryens to escape his grasp on Dragonstone. Perhaps it was out of pity for the Queen Mother Rhaella, or perhaps it was an act to simply spite his elder brother for taking Storm’s End away from him. 

Ironically, the only time Stannis has failed his duty turned out to have the most severe consequences. 

Footsteps echoing outside the council chambers took Stannis out of his musing as all the Lords stood and bowed at the King’s arrival. Aegon walked in confidently, a stride that belonged to a seasoned warrior, not a boy of only sixteen name days. His silver hair and purple eyes presented a regal image befitting the crown atop his head. He had clearly been groomed to be King since a very young age.

“Sit, my lords. We have much to discuss.” Aegon took the seat at the head of the table, and his Kingsguards slipped in quietly behind him, the legendary Ser Barristan Selmy and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower taking positions behind Aegon. 

“How’s the progress on the outer gates?” Aegon questioned, cutting right to the point. He had no patience for small talk, and though most of Westeros had bent the knee, he knew the war was far from over. 

“The builders have already begun reconstructing the stone walls, your grace.” Jon Connington replied, now serving as Hand of the King. “The damage from Dragonfire was minimum, and most of the buildings near the gates were unscathed.”

Aegon nodded in approval. “Good. See to it that the city walls are secured within a fortnight. I want the Dragonpit to be rebuilt as soon as possible. The Red Keep won’t be able to hold the Dragons for long.”

“I must caution against chaining the dragons, your grace.” Varys spoke up, the bald headed man whose true allegiance was unknown to anyone. His soft voice masking any true intentions, leaving behind only mysteries. “It is said that being held in captivity was perhaps the reason for the eventual downfall of the dragons. Near the end, they were no bigger than dogs.”

“I don’t mean to chain them, I know, more than anyone, the history of my House and the mistakes my ancestors made.” Aegon responded, “I’ll never lock my dragons in a cell, but we need somewhere for them to stay before we figure out a more permanent solution. Daenerys has been scouting the area around the Crownlands to find a suitable area far from any villages, where the dragons can hunt freely.”

“Is that wise, your grace?” Jon Connington questioned. “There are still enemies to the crown who would seek to bring harm to the princesses. Surely that can wait until we’ve destroyed all of our enemies.”

Aegon waved off his concerns. “They know how to handle themselves. Rhae and Dany are as good on top of their dragons as I am with mine. No army would dare to confront a dragon anyways.”

“Speaking of enemies, what is to be done with the rest of the Lannisters, your grace?” Varys, for all of his mysterious motives, had shown his loyalty to House Targaryen when they sacked King’s Landing. He had led the Targaryen forces through the castle and captured the Lannisters before they could escape. The former King, Queen Mother, and their conspirators all sat in cells awaiting Aegon’s judgement. 

“Send a raven to Casterly Rock.” Aegon commanded. “Tell Kevan Lannister he has a moon to arrive at King’s Landing and swear fealty to House Targaryen. Otherwise, we march on the Westerlands.”

“To Kevan Lannister, your grace?” The Hand asked. “Lord Tywin is Warden of the West, and even then, his son Jaime is the closest heir. Kevan Lannister holds no real power in the West.”

“You mistake me, Lord Hand.” Aegon warned. He welcomed advice from his councilors, but he often grew tired when they questioned his every move. “Tywin and Jaime are my prisoners. I gave them an opportunity to surrender peacefully, but they chose to bear arms against me. Joffrey Waters will be executed within a fortnight for his crimes against the realm, but Tywin and Jaime will be given the choice of taking the black. If they refuse, they’ll meet the block as well.” 

The Lords in the council room nodded acceptingly. They knew the price of defeat, and a new King cannot truly begin his rule until the old is disposed of. There was little love lost in any case for the lords present at the table; Joffrey didn’t inspire much love amongst the nobility nor the people, ruling through cruelty and cheap fear. 

“What of the remaining children, your grace?” The Lord Hand questioned. “Bastards born of incest hardly have a place in this world.”

“No harm will come to Myrcella or Tommen.” Aegon felt true pity when he saw the innocent eyes of those children clouded with fear when they captured the Red Keep. It reminded him of the same fear he shared as a child with Rhaenys and Daenerys, fearing for assassins in the dark and constantly on the run across Essos. 

“They’ll be returned to Casterly Rock where they’ll live out the rest of their days. They will never take the name Lannister, and their children will never inherit. I promise this and their safety as long as Lord Kevan surrenders Gregor Clegane to the crown. The Mountain will answer for his crimes in this city before House Targaryen.” Aegon continued, knowing the Mountain was not only for his own vengeance, but also justice for House Martell. “Write to Lord Kevan that I expect his presence along with the Mountain’s within a moon. If he won’t come to bend the knee, he’ll be met with three fire breathing dragons upon Casterly Rock _._ ”

“Yes, your grace. Ravens will be sent at once.” The new Grand Maester responded. Pycelle had been found guilty of conspiring with House Lannister, thanks to Varys, since long before Joffrey’s reign had begun. He now sat in a rotting cell stripped of his titles awaiting the King’s final decision. 

“How are the other Kingdoms faring?” Aegon asked, moving on to more urgent topics. The Riverlands, the North, and the Vale have yet to bend the knee, and the longer he waits, the more opposition he’ll face when he continues his campaign. 

“The Tyrell forces have begun siege on Riverrun, your grace.” The fat Lord Mace Tyrell puffed out proudly. “It won’t be long before the Trouts surrender before your highness.”

Aegon had to hold back a scoff. The Tyrells certainly had the men, but with a man like Mace Tyrell at the head of the armies inspired more jests than loyalty. 

“You have my gratitude Lord Tyrell.” Aegon masked his annoyance with a fake smile.

“Yes, your grace.” His chess seemingly puffed up even more in pride. “In fact my daughter recently arrived in court and --”

“What of you Lord Stannis?” Aegon cut off quickly before he would have to deal with another one of Mace Tyrell’s attempts at a betrothal. “I trust that the other Stormlords have been brought to heel.”

“Yes, your grace.” Stannis responded, his stone-cold face not yielding any emotion. “They will obey my commands. As the terms of surrender state, the Baratheon forces would return to the Stormlands. We swear fealty to House Targaryen, but will not engage in the wars to come.”

Jon Connington bristled next to him, but held his tongue at a glare from the King. Aegon nodded in acceptance. He knew better than to expect the Baratheon forces to join him in the war against the remaining Kingdoms. Having the Stormlands neutral rather than in opposition was much more important than having them join his army. 

They were perhaps the biggest threat to House Targaryen. The Baratheons commanded nearly 50,000 soldiers along with a strong naval force, and Stannis was as capable as any at leading a war. Fortunately for Aegon, he met the Baratheon forces in an open field where his dragons held a huge advantage. Faced with no other option, Stannis had to bend the knee. 

“As a show of faith, I’ll allow you to return to Storm’s End and rule as Lord Paramount.” Aegon announced to Stannis’ surprise. “In return, Renly Baratheon will be kept here in the Red Keep as a ward of the crown. Do you accept these terms?”

“Yes, your grace.” His surprise was quickly masked with a look of indifference. 

Aegon knew he was taking a risk with this decision, but he ultimately chose to trust in the man of honor to uphold his vows and duty to the crown. 

Creating further enmity with Stannis would be of no help to his cause. No matter how desperately he needed men for his army, it would be unwise to coerce Stannis into joining his forces. 

In order to bring the rest of the Kingdoms to heel, he would likely have to lay siege Winterfell and the Eyrie, on top of Riverrun. With his current army, he didn’t have nearly enough men to accomplish that. The dragons were near unstoppable weapons in the field, but they were far from being capable of burning down castle walls as Balerion the Dread had. They were growing at a tremendous pace, but it would be years until they were at that power. 

For now, Aegon still needed soldiers to win this war.

“Dorne is at your command, your grace.” Prince Oberyn spoke smoothly with his strong Dornish accent. “20,000 spears ready to march.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Aegon responded sincerely. Dorne was his closest ally, but they didn’t command the strongest forces. In the blistering deserts, they were without a doubt, extremely effective in their guerilla tactics. But once out of deserts, the Dornish soldiers were at a large disadvantage against well-armored and well-trained armies. Especially if they have to travel to the frozen lands in the North, Aegon doubted he would be met with much success there. 

“I suspect the North will be the most difficult out of the remaining Kingdoms.” Aegon continued, “It’s the largest Kingdom, they command a sizable army, but most importantly, Winterfell is perhaps the most formidable castle remaining. They are well-supplied for a siege, much more so than Riverrun, which has been decimated by the Lannisters.”

“There is a way to lure the rebel forces out into the open, your grace.” The Hand suggested. “The castles may be impenetrable to the young dragons now, but villages are not. If the Starks and Tullys still want the support of their people, they’ll be bound to march against us with their armies. Once that happens, we’ll have no problem against them in the open field with the dragonfire.”

Aegon shook his head resolutely. “I’ll not burn innocent people as my grandfather had. The mad king earned his name, and any resemblance to him would turn the people against House Targaryen.” Aegon scolded his Hand. “We’ll use the dragons only in battle.”

“Your grace, if I may, The Eyrie is perhaps the easiest castle to conquer.” Varys suggested. “The Mountains of the Vale may be impregnable to an army on the ground, but the castle is the least fortified of the remaining rebels. As Visenya Targaryen had done in the first conquest, I suspect the Vale would surrender without much of a fight if met with a dragon in the middle of their courtyard.”

Aegon pondered the thought for a moment and decided the idea held merit. “Very well. We’ll fly the dragons to the Eyrie and secure the Vale within the fortnight. Uncle, have the Dornish army march to Riverrun and secure the siege there. Along with the Tyrell army, the siege should last no longer than a moon.”

“Of course, your grace.” Prince Oberyn dipped his head slightly. “I shall be marching alongside, it has been a while since I’ve tasted battle.”

Aegon gave a slight nod in return. While the Dornish army may be questionable in real war, he had no doubts about the prowess of his own uncle. The _Red Viper_ has been a renowned warrior throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and that title didn’t come without him having proven himself in combat.

Aegon stood from his seat, as the other lords quickly followed in a bow. “We’ll let the news spread and offer the North one last chance at a peaceful surrender. By then, Riverrun should be conquered as well. If the North still refuses, we’ll take the might of our army and all three dragons upon Winterfell.” 

* * *

**Somewhere in the Crownlands**

Dany closed her eyes and allowed the winds to sweep freely across her face and she breathed in the fresh breeze of the country. It was much better out here than the shithole that had been King’s Landing. The sewers of the city were in terrible conditions, the smell even permeating to parts of the Red Keep. 

Daenerys couldn’t help be partly disappointed with what she saw in King’s Landing. All of the stories she’d heard as a child from Viserys, she had imagined a palace grander than anything she’s ever seen. Sure the Red Keep was a magnificent castle, but the city paled in comparison to the wondrous cities in Essos. 

But looking down at the countryside of Westeros from above her mount on Viserion, Dany couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. The moment she set foot on the beaches of Dragonstone, she knew. _This is home._

Once, that was all she had dreamed of. To be able to call someplace home, to be able to feel safe from her enemies. Atop her magnificent dragon now, there was hardly an enemy capable of posing a threat. When their dragons become fully grown, no one would dare oppose House Targaryen. 

To think how far she’d come from that little lonely girl in Pentos, her cruel brother driven to the same madness that had plagued their father. Or so she’d been told by the Kingsguards that had escaped with them. The only thing that kept Dany from losing hope were her niece and nephew. Growing up together, Rhaenys was the eldest and always acted as a caretaker where Viserys failed to be. Aegon and Dany bonded as if they were true brother and sister, being nearly inseparable since they could even remember. 

When Daenerys thought back to her childhood, it was these memories with Aegon and Rhaenys that brought a smile to her face. While Daenerys always dreamed of home, Aegon yearned for the Iron Throne. Ever since he was old enough to learn and understand, he had been prepared in the ways of Kingship. The stories of their ancestors and her brother Rhaegar drove Aegon to not only reclaim what was theirs by right, but also to become a King that would surpass all of the old monarchs. 

At some level in her heart, she pitied her brother Viserys out of the love she still held for him. He would never get to experience any of this. What it felt like to fly far above the lands and the sea… what if felt like to step foot once again back in their country. 

He had been removed by the Kingsguard from the rest of the Targaryen children long before they hatched their dragons. In a fight with Aegon, he had severely harmed the younger child who had been trying to defend Daenerys from his cruelty. That was an act the White Knights couldn’t forgive, and that was the last they saw of Viserys. 

Perhaps that was the main reason she had named her dragon after him. In some way allowing him to see Westeros again with her, and protect her as he should have as a brother. 

Shaking off the old memories from her head, Daenerys guided Viserion to a small hill in the distance overlooking Blackwater Bay. The sun was beginning to set, giving off a beautiful reflection of the surface of the calm water. Soon Daenerys would have to head back to the Red Keep or cause the Kingsguards to worry unnecessarily. It was out of genuine concern, but no one felt safer in the presence of the dragons than the Targaryen children. Viserion won’t let any harm befall her. 

Dany reached out a hand and gently stroked the scales on Viserion’s neck. The dragon let out a snort before nudging her affectionately with his snout. Dany let out a small smile; bringing Viserion out for a small hunt seemed to have improved his mood greatly. Out of the dragons, Viserion was by far the most temperamental, and the most intimidating. In that manner, he did take after his namesake. His scales pitch black with hints of red shining through, a perfect image of their House. But to Dany he had always been a sweet creature, rarely snapping if his hunger was satisfied. He was the first to be hatched from their rituals, but only slightly larger than his siblings. 

Soon after, Rhaenys had hatched hers, a green dragon with bluish hues she had named Eliaxes after the mother she had lost in King’s Landing. Aegon followed shortly behind and hatched a dragon with creamy white scales and hints of gold. He had named his dragon Rhaegal after his father who he’d never met, having only heard stories of the crown prince from the old Kingsguards. 

When the dragons had first been hatched, they could hardly believe they were holding the magnificent creatures of legend within the cradle of their arms. The dragon eggs that Illyrio had gifted them were far from fossils. A ritual involving the blood of the rider they would bond with along with fire was all it took for them to hatch.

Perhaps it was destiny, and only those worthy to be chosen by the dragons were capable of hatching the eggs. But to Dany, it was all the same. Their path to Westeros was set the moment she shared her dreams with Aegon and Rhaenys. They would return back to their home and now they could on top of three intimidating beasts. 

They had been hatched around 5 years ago, and already, they’ve grown to the size of small ships. A growth rate inexplicable by anything but magic.

“ _Soves_ ” She commanded in High Valyrian, steering Viserion to take off back in the direction of the Red Keep. They had set aside a large courtyard for the dragons, but soon enough they would outgrow their confines. The plains she had found north of King’s Landing was perhaps a good place for them. A spacious area with lots of prey, and most importantly, free of settlers. 

Speeding past overhead of King’s Landing, she observed the crowded city at night. It was a stark contrast next to the glorious Red Keep. While the royals lived splendidly, the rest of the people starved out in the city in jam packed roads and dirty sewers.

It was a topic she would remember to bring up with Aegon when they would meet. But she knew their priorities for now lay elsewhere. She didn’t pretend to understand the tactics of war, but even she saw that delaying their conquest any further only weakened their claim. 

Landing with a loud thud, Daenerys climbed off of Viserion and allowed him to stalk off to where his siblings lay resting. Walking up the stairs to the main royal hall, Daenerys was quickly flanked by her White Cloaks, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, the two falling in step wordlessly behind her. Now used to the Princess’s antics, they didn’t even question why she had returned at such a late hour, and only followed her silently to the King’s chambers. 

The group arrived and the guards gave a subtle nod to Ser Barristan who had been stationed at the door. 

“The King and Princess Rhaenys have been expecting your presence, Princess Daenerys.” Ser Barristan gave a small bow before announcing her arrival and leading her inside. 

Daenerys strode in and Aegon and Rhaenys looked up from their discussion. A frown upon their face seemingly at the parchment on the desk currently.

“Thank you Ser Barristan.” Aegon said, “Send for the servants. Dany will be dining with us as we have much to discuss.”

“Yes, your grace.” And with that, the Kingsguard left the three Targaryens alone to their discussions.

“What’s the matter, Egg?” Daenerys could see Aegon gripping the parchment tightly in his hand, no doubt the cause of an argument between the two siblings before her. “Who’s the message from?”

“Robb Stark.” Aegon gritted out the two words with frustration. “The boy fancies himself a King having not even fully won a war yet.”

Dany raised a curious eyebrow as she took her seat at the round table. “If I were to guess, he’s around the same age as you. You would hardly be one to criticize another monarch for his age.”

“His age is not what frustrates me. It’s his ignorance of the power that stands before him.” Aegon passed the parchment to Daenerys. “Here, read what he says.”

Daenerys took the parchment and quickly read over the message from the self-proclaimed King in the North. “... Declaration of Northern Independence… to rule as sovereign over the North as its own Kingdom…” Daenerys finished, laying the parchment down on the table. “Much of what I expected. The North is far away from the other kingdoms, and they wouldn’t just bend the knee to some rumors south of their border. Once they see the dragons for themselves, flying over their own lands, they’ll be quick to surrender as any of the other houses.”

“My point exactly.” Rhaenys exclaimed towards Aegon, giving Daenerys a look of gratitude. “Which is why we should fly directly to Winterfell and demand immediate surrender. If the North falls, its allies would have no choice to surrender as well. It’s the quickest way to end the war, why can’t you see that brother?”

“I do see that, but it’s not as easy as it makes it seem.” Aegon growled. “What if the North doesn’t surrender, and they simply retreat within their castles. Then we would have no choice but to wait for our armies to march North which could take moons. If we display an act of aggression now against the North and wait for moons to actually attack, it would be seen as a sign of weakness. Especially for our dragons.”

“On top of that, if winter sets in while our armies are trapped in the North, there would be no way to supply them from the Southern Kingdoms. I’m not about to send tens of thousands of men to their freezing deaths in a wasteland.” Aegon continued, hoping to make Rhaenys and Dany see reason.

“What do you propose then?” Rhaenys questioned, “We’ll have to meet the North eventually. Waiting out this upcoming winter would be out of the question. It could be years before we see the next summer.”

Dany nodded in agreement. “By then, it would be hard to convince the lords to march with you to reclaim the North. Whatever we do, it has to be now.”

“I’ve sent Uncle Oberyn and the Dornishmen up to Riverrun. They’ll enforce the siege, and I trust he’ll be able to take the castle in one moon.” Aegon began detailing his plan. “In a few day, we’ll fly directly to the Eyrie and demand their surrender.”  
  
“All three of us?” Rhaenys questioned. “Surely, one dragon would be enough. Visenya first took the Eyrie all by herself.”  
  
“Yes, but Vhagar was already a fully grown dragon by then. Our dragons are formidable but far from fully grown.” Aegon knew his dragons were a huge advantage, and key to them retaking Westeros. He’d prefer to take as few risks as possible but he knew this was war, and riding out in battle was the only way they would win. “The Vale might be able to over power one dragon, but they’ll be no match for all three of us.”

“A good plan.” Daenerys nodded in contemplation. “And once Riverrun falls as well, the North will be alone and isolated. At that point, they’ll likely surrender without even a war. We’d have no worries of armies being trapped in the North.”

A small smile slowly formed on Aegon’s face. The years of planning along with the war and the politics had weighed heavily on Aegon’s shoulder. Dany reached out and clasped Aegon’s hand with a small tender smile of her own. It was in these moments when they could see their goals in sight, do they finally allow a small sense of contentment.

If all went well, they could finally reunite the Seven Kingdoms, and Aegon will sit the Iron Throne, with Dany by his side as queen.


	2. Impregnable

**Winterfell**

Robb gently gripped the carved wooden arm of the chair he sat upon. It brought back memories of his youth when he would watch his father perform his lordly duties. At the time, Robb hadn’t thought too much of the responsibilities of a lord, thinking them to be boring. Reading reports, writing ravens, and meeting with lords… it was far from the games he’d imagined while playing with Jon in the godswood.

But now as they gathered in Eddard’s solar, he knew his responsibility was greater than any Lords of Winterfell in the past. He was King in the North, and he couldn’t afford to show an ounce of weakness. Not to his enemies, and not to his own people. _Would father have done the same?_

Robb was shaken out of his thoughts by his mother next to him. “Was that truly a wise decision, Robb?” In front of the other lords, his mother had taken to calling him _your grace_ , but here in private, dropping formalities gave Robb a small sense of relief from the weight upon his shoulders. “The Targaryens’ offer was not unreasonable. We swear fealty to the crown and this war ends in peace. No lives lost, and they even ask for little to no reparations. Rejecting their offer in such a manner will only provoke them further.”

“Reparations?” Robb scoffed. “The North has done no wrong. After all the injustices we’ve suffered under the crown, the Northern Lords will never submit to a Southern ruler. Those lords chose me as King in the North, they put their trust in me - trust that I would protect their lives and their lands from any foreigners to the North. The moment I kneel, I lose all of that. House Stark loses all of that. Not only the loyalty of our vassals, but all the relationships father has built throughout the years. The lords and I have made our decision, and now we have to all stand behind our independence.”

“He’s right, mother.” Sansa spoke up from her seat across from Robb. Ever since she’d been reunited with her family, they’ve noticed a rather dramatic change from the girl that had left Winterfell. Gone was the girl that only had dreams of princes and knights. Her eyes now held a hidden sense of intelligence and wariness. Robb can only imagine the hardships she went through at King’s Landing, a wolf all alone surrounded by enemies. _Father would have been ashamed of me for what I had done._

“The Northern Lords will never accept a Southern ruler, especially another Targaryen.” Sansa continued. “The lords took a risk in naming you King, you can’t repay that by giving up the North’s freedom by bending the knee once again. After Torrhen Stark knelt the North away, the lords never treated him with the same respect. Some chose exile to Essos over kneeling, and others plotted rebellion even years after Torrhen’s death.”

Sansa had always been immersed in the stories of the past. As a child, she’d been enamored by the stories of Florian and Jonquil, and the tales of Prince Aemon and Queen Naerys. 

Queen Cersei had quickly shown her how useless her fantasies were, but she would never forget her father’s words when he’d first discovered she’d had a love for stories.

_Understanding people’s pasts is the only way to understand people now. People are who they are for a reason. A person is shaped by their past, their ancestors, and their childhood. Knowledge of that history allows you to see things from their perspective and understand their struggles._

At the time, much of what he said didn’t make sense to a young Sansa who had only been interested in romantic songs of bravery and love. But now, she knew that was the reason why Lord Eddard Stark was such a beloved Warden in the North. People respected him because he ruled by understanding his people. 

The thoughts of her father still brought horrifying images to her mind. The head of Lord Eddard Stark rolling on the steps while Joffrey laughed cruelly as if it was a jest. She felt bile rising up her throat at the thought that no one had done anything to stop him.

Only a gentle hand grasping hers underneath the table woke her from the nightmare she was spiraling back into. Sansa looked beside her to see Jon with a look of concern on his face. He gave a small squeeze in reassurance, having seen first hand the hell she was trapped in at King’s Landing. 

Sansa gave him a tentative smile in return, signaling here gratitude. She’d come to regret her actions during her childhood, her predicament under the Lannisters making her realize she was no different with Jon. _To think after all she’s done, Jon had still been willing to_ _…_

“All we can do now is prepare for the wars to come.” Robb continued, pulling Sansa from her thoughts. “The Targaryens will strike quick and they’ll strike hard. They can’t afford a war that’ll go for years. Winter is Coming. And Southerners don’t fare well this far North.”

“Yes, your grace.” Rodrik Cassel spoke up from Robb’s side. The old Master-at-Arms may have been past his prime, but he’s experienced enough war to know the harsh consequences of weather. “The Targaryens are likely to bring their forces directly to Winterfell. Any detours will slow them down significantly with the North being so expansive.”

“And what happens then?” Catelyn questioned with a frown. “What happens when the Targaryens fly their dragons above Winterfell? What’s to stop them from burning it to the ground as Aegon had done to Harrenhal. The largest castle known to man reduced to ruins in the matter of days.”

“The siege at Riverrun proves that the Targaryens don’t have that power as of yet.” Jon spoke up for the first time, his eyes meeting Lady Catelyn’s briefly. Her treatment of him had softened somewhat in recent moons. When he’d first abandoned the Night’s Watch to join Robb and his army, she’d been furious and demanded Robb to send him back to the Wall. The other Northern Lords weren’t happy either, but he had sworn no Night’s Watch vows in the first place. With their King’s insistence, Jon stayed by Robb’s side through everything much to Lady Catelyn’s ire.

It didn’t take long for Jon to earn the respect of the other Northerners. The boy had proven he had a good mind for war and an even sharper instinct on the battlefield. It was Jon who took the charge in capturing the Kingslayer, and the brothers were as fearsome on the battlefield as their direwolves.

Even Catelyn had to admit the benefits of having the bastard with them. If anything, she’s come to see that he only wished to protect his family. When news of Lord Eddard’s imprisonment had reached the wall, Jon had immediately strapped his horse and made his way to Robb’s camp with one of his companions from the watch. 

They had pushed relentlessly against the Lannister forces, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Ned’s death had hit Jon as hard as it had the rest of the Stark family. Perhaps it was during this time that Catelyn had softened up towards Jon. They still didn’t speak to one another, but at the very least she was tolerable of his presence. 

“If the Targaryens truly had the power to breach thick castle walls,” Jon continued, “There would be no need for them to hold siege at Riverrun. Their only victories so far have been won out on the battlefield against the Lannisters, and the surrender of Stannis. They want to lure our armies out onto open fields so their dragons would have the advantage.”

“Jon is right, Robb.” Sansa supported. “If we want to protect the North, we’ll have to protect its people as well. The towns around Winterfell are vulnerable to dragonfire. It would be best if we start evacuating Wintertown and move supplies within the castle walls.”

“Aye. Send men to Wintertown to help the people move.” Robb turned towards Rodrik Cassel. “There should be more than enough room in the outer towers to hold all the common folk temporarily. If not, we’ll make room in the main keep.”

“And send a raven to White Harbour. The Targaryens are unlikely to attack the Manderlys, but they’ll surely cut off our supplies from them.” Robb instructed Maester Luwin. “Ask Lord Wyman to send one last caravan of supplies before it's too late.”

“Yes, your grace.” Maester Luwin nodded dutifully. 

“The dragons are still a problem.” Robb pondered. “They can’t harm us within the castle walls, but we can’t just sit back and allow the Targaryen army to approach either. If their hosts reach Winterfell and besiege the castle, there would be no way to man the walls if dragons are raining fire down from above. Even Winterfell won’t hold for more than a day.”

“It’ll take about two moons for their army to reach Winterfell once they take Riverrun.” Ser Rodrik estimated. “And if rumors are to be trusted, the Martell host will be joining the Tyrell host at Riverrun, and they’ll march North together once House Tully is defeated.”

Catelyn closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to the Seven for protection over her childhood home and her family. It had been a hard decision for Robb to take his army back North and leave Riverrun defenseless without an army. It had been even harder trying to explain to Edmure why she’d abandoned her childhood home. But in the end, Winterfell and her children Bran and Rickon were more important to her. 

After Theon had betrayed them, she knew Winterfell was in danger with most of the Northern forces gathered South of the neck with Robb’s host. He had been insistent on pushing South and finishing the Lannisters, but thankfully he’d heeded the advice of his councillors and took his armies back North.

_Without Jon’s urging, perhaps Robb would have never turned back._ Catelyn thought with a shudder at the possible consequences. She would have never lived to see Bran and Rickon again. From that point on, Catelyn had accepted Jon’s place by Robb’s side. It was her way of showing gratitude for not only his council, but what he’d done for her daughters. Something neither she nor Robb were able to do.

When the Kingslayer was captured, Catelyn begged for Robb to exchange him for her daughters. But to her surprise, he had refused to exchange the life of a prisoner for those of his own sisters. In a fit of frustration, she’d released the Kingslayer with instruction for the lady Brienne to escort him to King’s Landing in exchange for Sansa and Arya.

In hindsight, she was perhaps too quick to act, too desperate to save her girls, and too trusting in the words of an oathbreaker. Only Jon had been able to see the dire problems of the situation. With Tywin riding for King’s Landing, no matter how much honor Jaime had left within him, he would have no power to release Sansa and Arya.

And by then, the Lannisters would have Jaime returned to them and the Stark girls still in hostage. Without leaving anyone a warning, Jon had slipped out of camp within the night and ridden for King’s Landing without anyone’s knowledge. Robb had been absolutely furious, thinking Jon’s recklessness to be a suicide charge.

But miraculously, less than a fortnight later, Jon had returned with both Sansa and Arya, accompanied by a small group of men who called themselves the _Brotherhood without Banners_. Still stationed at Riverrun at the time, Catelyn could hardly believe the sight before her eyes. Her daughters returned to her and her family reunited once again. 

But she knew, from the looks Sansa threw towards Robb and the tentative manner in which she kept her distance from him, things were hardly back to normal. Her girls had left Winterfell carefree and innocent of the cruelty of this world, but they’d returned with scars from the Viper’s Nest that was King’s Landing. 

Arya had become quiet and spent all of her time in the yard training with her sword. Sansa had become wary around everybody. Her eyes carried a look of suspicion and sharp wit that revealed itself in quick remarks during conversation. But Catelyn could tell, with the way Sansa would freeze up when people got too close to her, when her eyes flashed with panic. She hated to even think about what the Lannisters did to her daughters. It was only during these thoughts that Catelyn wished they had pushed on and destroyed the Lannisters. Vengeance for what they did to her family — her lord husband and her daughters.

The only moments where Catelyn saw her daughter truly at ease was around the bastard. To this day, she’d never learned how Jon had snuck into King’s Landing and rescued her, nor fully of her experience in the Lannister’s grasps. But judging from the looks of sympathy Jon had shared with Sansa, Catelyn suspected that the journey had been nowhere near as easy as Jon had made it out to be. _They were lucky to have escaped alive._

The only thing she’d been certain of was the fact that Sansa was the only one he’d found in King’s Landing. Stumbling upon Arya and the Brotherhood without Banners had been pure chance as they made their way back to Riverrun. 

Robb let out a slow sigh at the predicament they were placed in. “In any case, we’ll need to prepare a way to deal with their dragons. We cannot repel an attack from the ground and dragons from above at the same time. We must make use of the time we have before the Targaryens are upon us.” Robb looked once again towards the old Maester. “Maester Luwin, would you have any idea of how we can stop these creatures?”

Maester Luwin pondered thoughtfully before responding, “There are certain weapons capable of firing bolts as larger than spears as a crossbow would. The history books talk about it being used in Dorne to take down the great dragon Meraxes along with the rider Queen Rhaenys. The _Scorpion_ , I believe they'd called it.”

“We hardly ever see it in Westeros nowadays because of the great castles, but in Essos, they use it occasionally as a siege weapon against weaker fortification. Very cumbersome, the weapon that is... and very difficult to use against a moving target. Hard to imagine it'd be useful against a dragon, especially if their riders are aware of them.” Maester Luwin continued. “The dragons had been extinct for so long, not much thought has been put into rebuilding such a weapon.”

“I know someone that could.” Jon interrupted suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone in the solar. “My companion from the Night’s Watch, Samwell Tarly. He’s a scholar of history and has a great mind for such things. I could speak with him to see if we could come up with a solution.”

“Thank you, brother.” Robb acknowledged with a small nod before they were interrupted by loud knocks upon the solar door. 

“Come in.” Robb announced before the door opened revealing his squire, Olyvar.

“The hound, Ser Sandor Clegane, requests a meeting with you, you grace.” His loyal squire delivered, bowing before the King and his family.

“Very well, I’ll go and see what he has to say.” Robb said, standing from his seat. “We’ll meet with the other lords on the morrow to discuss the rest of our plans. Rest well, mother. Rest well, Sansa.” With a quick final nod to Jon, he strode out of the solar followed by his councilors.

“Sansa, if you don’t mind, we can have supper in my chambers. It has been a while since we…”

“Sorry mother, I’m feeling a bit tired. Perhaps I should retire for the night.” With a quick curtsy, Sansa hurried out of the solar, leaving Catelyn alone with Jon.

He stood slowly and gave a respectful bow towards Catelyn. “Lady Stark, if you’ll excuse me. I bid you a peaceful night, m’lady.”

Turning around, he made way for the door as well before he was stopped. 

“Jon —” Catelyn called out, not quite sure what to say. There may have still been a tension between them, but at the very least, she no longer addressed him as _bastard_ or _Snow_ to his face. 

Jon saw the conflicted look on Catelyn’s face and noticed the earlier looks of concern she showed Sansa. Though Jon had never experienced it, he admired Catelyn’s love for her children. It was the one thing they easily agreed upon — to protect the Stark family.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Jon answered, trying to reassure her fears as best he could, before he finally strode out of the room in search for Sansa. 

“Thank you, Jon” She whispered, staring at his silhouette as he walked down the hall. While she used to resent Jon’s resemblance to her lord husband, now all she saw was a ghost that brought back both painful and sweet memories.

Catelyn let out a small sigh, alone by herself in Ned’s solar trying to protect what was left of her family. No matter how much she looked after her children, and however many tasks she distracted herself with, she still couldn’t help her mind drifting back to the love she’d lost.

_Perhaps it was time to visit him once again._ Catelyn thought before she made her way to the crypts.

  
  


The guards stood at attention as Robb made his way to the chamber in the guest hall. He’d considered throwing the Hound to a cell in the dungeons, but his sister Sansa’s pleas had made him decide otherwise. While Clegane was still not free to roam the castle, he’d been allowed accommodations for his stay.

“Open the door.” Robb commanded before striding in. Even without a weapon the Hound was a dangerous warrior, but Robb knew Sandor Clegane was not a fool. Harming the King in the North would bring him no reward, plus if Sansa was willing to vouch for him, he deserved to hear what the man had to say. 

Robb went to take a seat across from Sandor. The two stared at each other in silence as if measuring each other up.

“You're not nearly as fearsome as they’d make you out to believe” Sandor mocked, a mug of ale in his hands.

“To whom do I have to thank for the rumors?” Robb asked.

“In the South, they say you can turn into wolves. Terrifying monsters who eat their enemies after they’ve killed them. And in the North, they sing songs about your bravery. The great warrior who drove out the evil enemies.” 

Sandor took another gulp before continuing. “But you’re just a boy still clinging to his mother’s skirts. No different than that other little shit down in King’s Landing.”

“This _boy,_ ” Robb grit out, “Holds your life in his hands. I’m starting to regret not throwing you in a dungeon. You’d deserve it for all the things you’ve done for the Lannisters, you watched as they took my father’s head.”

“Aye, I watched. So did thousands of others.” Sandor exclaimed, his voice rising from a deep rumble. “What d’you expect me to do, boy? I owe House Stark nothing, least of which my own life.”

“You owe it to the oaths you swore as a Knight.” Robb shouted. “Where was your honor, Clegane, when my sister was suffering at the hands of the Lannisters? You did nothing then either, and watched as the innocent suffered.”

Sandor Clegane gave a small laugh. “You Starks and your honor. Look where that got your father. Don’t lecture me about being a bystander. If it wasn’t for your bastard brother, your little sister would still be in her little cage. Where were _you_ , boy, when the little bird cried for her brother”

All emotion drained from Robb’s face as he let his rage settle in. He clenched his fists tightly by his side, “I had a war to win.” Robb sneered. “Unlike you. Tucked your tail between your legs like the dog that you are. Ran from battle the moment you tasted danger.”

“You’d be a fool not to.” Sandor barked out. “Only an idiot will choose to be burned to death. You haven’t seen them, boy, or else you wouldn’t be so stupid to fight war with them. I didn’t leave King’s Landing so I could be swallowed by dragonfire here. I’m leaving, whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not your choice to make. If we judge you guilty for the cri—”

“Let him go, Robb” He looked up to find Sansa standing by the door, with Jon shadowing closely behind her. “He protected me the best he could, when he could. He might have been the kindest person to me in King’s Landing.”

“Aye you were an unlucky one, little bird.” Sandor’s look seemed almost sympathetic. “But you did escape your little cage in the end didn’t you. The Lannisters were wrong to underestimate you; you’re stronger than you look.”

Sansa flashed him a brief smile that didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Give him the horses and all the supplies he’ll need. He committed no crime, only obeyed the orders of his King.”

“But Sansa…”

Robb was cut off with a pointed look from her. Their relationship had been strained to put it mildly, and denying her requests would only drive her even further away. Robb gave a small sigh before relenting.

“You’ll be free to leave on the morrow. Everything will be prepared, but I expect you gone from Winterfell by nightfall.”

“Thank you, brother.” Sansa dipped her head slightly.

Robb hesitated to reach out to his sister, before he dropped his arms and walked out the chambers. He was filled with shame at the Hound’s words which carried more truth than he would have liked to admit. The horrifying realization of what’d have become of his sister if Jon hadn’t saved them chilled Robb to the bones. He could only hope that with time these wounds within their family would slowly heal, and they could truly be one family once again.

* * *

Sansa looked across the table to the hound who’d silently continued with his supper. Once, his scarred face would have induced nightmares in her sleep, but now she only dreamed of other monsters.

“He the one that saved you then?” Sandor pointed a finger behind Sansa to where Jon stood idly by the door. He’d only heard rumors of the Bastard of Winterfell, and by the time Arya had run into Sansa and Jon, he’d already been captured by the Brotherhood without Banners. Tied and blinded before he caught a glimpse of the boy.

Sansa only gave a small nod in return.

Sandor did a quick study of Ned Stark’s bastard. _Just a boy like his brother._ Though the Hound had been just as young when he killed his first man. If he made it out of King’s Landing alive with her, he would have to know his way around a sword.

“You’d do well to protect her, boy. D’you hear me?” Sandor shot a look towards the stoic looking boy, “Little birds suffer out in the real world. The least she deserves is someone to look out for her.”

“No one can protect me.” Sansa mumbled seemingly more to herself. “No one can protect anyone.”

Sandor gave a small pitying smile. “You learn quick, girl. Perhaps you’ll outlive them yet.” He set down his now empty mug of ale and made his way to the door. 

“Where will you go?” Sansa asked, knowing this’ll probably be the last she’d see of him.

“Somewhere far away, girl. Where not even the dragons will fucking find me.”

* * *

**The Vale**

Aegon soared high in the sky watching the mountainous terrain fly past below him. He could see why many believed the Eyrie to be impregnable. The steep cliffs and valleys made it impossible for even a small host to cross safely. In a true siege, thousands would die just trying to make it up the mountain passes. 

_But dragons were different._ Aegon thought with a smirk as he saw the Eyrie approaching in the distance, slim white towers reaching to the sky like fingers outstretched from a hand.

Aegon spared a glance back to find Rhaenys and Dany following not too far behind, having noticed the castle themselves as well. He gave a quick signal to the other dragonriders, and they began to descend slowly towards the Eyrie. It was by far the smallest castle out of the main houses of Westeros, with very few layers of defenses within the castle.

Spotting an open courtyard near the center of the keep, Aegon began guiding Rhaegal down towards his target. Within just a few circles, Aegon landed his dragon with a large thud that reverberated throughout the castle. His companions were not far behind as Viserion and Eliaxes landed in quick succession.

A sharp scream pierced through the halls, as a wandering maid was met with the sight of the great beasts staring her down. The guards that followed were no better, some even dropping their weapons in fear. Those that were able to draw their arms froze in fear as Rhaegal released a menacing roar at the poor men, the tips of their swords shook uncontrollably as they tried to point them towards the dragons.

“Surrender your arms in this instant and bring me your liege lord.” Aegon’s command boomed across the courtyard. “All those who disobey will be met with _Fire and Blood_.” 

The threat was accompanied by another roar from Rhaegal, and clattering rang throughout the courtyard as the guards dropped their swords to the ground, and kneeled in surrender. A servant had stumbled away quickly to summon his lord, glad to be as far away from the dragons as possible. 

Aegon gave a quick glance around their surroundings. The dragons should deter any foolish attacks, but the riders were not invincible, it would be wise to be on the lookout just in case.

Soon a tall lord strode out of one of the towers into the courtyard followed by a group of guards. His hair was gray with age, but he still held the image of a warrior. His gait slightly paused at the sight before him, but continued on with a slight gulp.

Gathering his courage, “W-what is the meaning of this?”

“For the Vale’s response to House Targaryen’s claim to the Iron Throne, we have come to offer one last chance at a peaceful surrender and for House Arryn to swear fealty to the crown once again.” Aegon declared with confidence. “What is your name, my lord?”

“Lord Yohn Royce.” The man said unyielding yet. “You may intimidate us with dragons, but until we’ve been defeated in battle, the Vale remains allied with the Starks.”  
  
“You misunderstand me, Lord Royce.” Aegon warned in a low voice. “This is my last offer, and I do not intend on taking no for an answer. Don’t make this more difficult for yourself than it has to be. Surrender peacefully, or face the consequences of your heedlessness.”

“I’m afraid honor compels us to uphold our alliance to House Stark. If the Vale betrays their allies…”

“Dracarys” Aegon heard from behind him, and he turned to see Eliaxes drown the side of one of the castle towers in flames. 

The servants and soldiers on the ground shrieked in fear as they felt the heat from the fire dance across the skin. The stone walls began to give way to the blistering streams of fire until they crumbled away completely, revealing the hallways of the keep behind them. 

Aegon shot Rhaenys a look of annoyance, before she nudged her dragon forwards to face Yohn Royce.

“Did you really think your castle walls can withstand dragonfire, Lord Royce?” Rhaenys spit out, a hint of her Dornish accent slipping through. She was perhaps the quickest to anger out of the three Targaryen, a complete opposite to her dragon Eliaxes, which took on the calm personality of their mother.

“I had read somewhere that the walls of the Eyrie were built quite thin to be able to stand upon this cliff.” Rhaenys continued, her ire sparked by the impertinence of the noble before her. “Would you like to find out how long it’ll take before I could bring down an entire tower? Or do you think you would burn to death before that happened.”

Lord Royce eyed the dragons nervously before his attention was brought back towards Aegon.

“Does honor outweigh the lives of your people, Lord Royce? Surrender now, and I promise no harm will be brought to the people of the Vale. Refuse, and the Eyrie will be reduced to ashes.”  
  


Glancing towards the people cowering on the ground, and the hundreds more hiding within the towers, Lord Yohn Royce lowered himself to one knee reluctantly.

“Bring me Lysa Arryn and her son.” Aegon commanded, “We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to fix the issue about the Scorpion so it'd fit better with the real life descriptions and capabilities of the Ballista. Hope that cleared things up a bit.


	3. Riverrun

**Riverrun**

Brynden Tully grimaced as he clutched his abdomen in pain, his hand coming away stained with blood. The wound hadn’t been fatal, but he’d only made it worse in the hours of fighting since. 

For nearly a moon, the siege at Riverrun had lasted in stalemate. Three times the Tyrells had attempted to advance to the castle walls, but the Blackfish had pushed them back without mercy. The wide moat surrounding Riverrun at all sides was filled with sunken boats and the corpses of Reachmen. Whoever was in command of the Tyrell host must’ve been a glory-thirsty fool. 

For that, the Blackfish had Mace Tyrell to thank. The fat oaf had foolishly given command of his armies to his brother-in-law, some third son of Lord Leyton Hightower, who’d never wielded a sword outside of a tourney. The insult did not sit well with Lord Randyll Tarly, who’d refused to march altogether, keeping his men at Horn Hill. Had it been any other Liege Lord, the bannermen would have been punished for showing such disobedience, but Mace Tyrell was an old bumbling fool.

Only after the Martell host had arrived at their camp did they stop trying to foolishly storm the castle. The siege was now a waiting game, and the Blackfish hated to imagine how quickly they were burning through the last of the stores. He’d heard stories of the horrors during the rebellion, when Stannis had been besieged within Storm’s End for the better part of a year. Towards the end, when they’d finally ran out of rats to hunt, they’d nearly considered eating the prisoners before they were saved by a smuggler. 

Brynden didn’t want to see that fate for his family nor his people. They’d announced loud and clear that they had enough stores to last a year, but truthfully, they’d be lucky to make it half that. He knew they were fighting a losing battle, and eventually, the Targaryens would starve them out. 

At best, they’d have half a year to plan a counter-attack, to break the siege and defeat the joint enemy host outside their gates. Of course, that required the help of their allied Kingdoms, but it was not out of the realm of possibilities.

The Targaryens and their dragons had destroyed that last sliver of hope.

They said that  _ Dark Wings brought Dark Words _ , but Aegon’s had only brought death. Within just a few hours, the castle had been taken.

The terrifying sight would forever be burned in Brynden’s memories.  _ Three great beasts circling above Riverrun before they descended to rain destruction upon his house. _

The men atop the walls and turrets had been engulfed in flames before they could even jump off, many dying before their bodies even hit the moat below. 

It didn’t take long for the army camped outside to storm across their moats. Without any resistance from within the castle, all it took was a ladder and men to climb it. Before long, the drawbridge was lowered, and their entire force stormed Riverrun, putting any brave resistors to the sword.

Edmure had bent the knee then and there. Even before, he’d nearly surrendered the castle to the Tyrell host. His brother’s fool of a son was a craven at heart, and only under threat from the Blackfish had kept his backbone straight.

But now, his House had bent the knee. The home he’d grown up in overrun with enemies.  _ How did it come to a point like this? _ Years ago, when a tentative peace had settled across Westeros, you could hardly blame the people for believing the worst to be over. The Rebellion was the bloodiest conflict of their lifetimes, but now, not even twenty years had passed, and they were staring down a new fiery hell.

The Blackfish knew he wasn’t meant for long in this world anymore. If this was the last thing he’d have left in his old age, Brynden would die with a sword in his hand, his honor as a warrior intact. 

Bracing his body back up with his sword, the Blackfish trudged onward. 

* * *

Aegon stood above the ramparts as he looked towards the dragons hunting in the distance. They’d managed to keep the destruction to a minimal, only a few wooden houses within the castle had burned. The main keep and towers had remained undamaged, their stone walls too thick for dragonfire to destroy.

_ For now.  _ Aegon thought, throwing a last glance towards his dragon as Rhaegal dove into the Trident and resurfaced with a mouthful of trout.  _ Soon they’d grow to the sizes dragons had been in the past, maybe even as large as Balerion once was.  _ Though Aegon never planned to burn people within their castles, having the power to do so should threaten enough Houses to fall in line. 

He turned towards his sister who had joined him atop the walls of the keep. 

“What’s next?” Rhaenys asked with a look of determination.

“Uncle Oberyn will bring the armies stationed here up North. The march should take around two moons with the supplies they’d have to carry.” Aegon responded. “You’ll stay here for a fortnight before you make your way to Winterfell.”

“What?” Rhaenys was shocked by the suddenness of the decision. “When were you going to consult  _ me _ about this? Don’t I get a say in matters anymore?”

“I’m consulting you right now.” Aegon challenged. “You are to fly to Winterfell, and offer the North one last chance to surrender. By then, they’d surely learn of the defeats at Riverrun and the Eyrie. Though I’m sure the damn Starks won’t kneel so easily. At least, the history books won’t be able to say I didn’t give them one last chance.”

“What the hell is the point of that?” Her Dornish accent seeping through as her temper started to rise. She hadn’t even been to Dorne, but growing up, she was quick to pick up her mother Elia’s tongue. “If we bring all the dragons upon Winterfell, they won’t be able to withstand us. We’re  _ dragons _ , Egg. We do not show mercy.”

Aegon gave a small sigh at Rhaenys’ temperament. “A good King knows when to be harsh and when to be lenient. If we wish to be any different than the Mad King, we must know how to walk the fine line.” 

“Plus our dragons alone will not be able to take Winterfell. You’ve seen it here yourself.” Aegon continued, “We may be able to burn the soldiers in the turrets and their defenses, but we’ve barely scratched the stone walls. Without our armies here, we wouldn’t have been able to take Riverrun, and the same goes for Winterfell.”

“Where will you go then?” Rhaenys conceded, it was rare for her to win an argument against Aegon these days. 

“Dany and I will return to King’s Landing and sort out a few matters. We’ll have to find accommodations for our new guests.” Aegon glanced towards the castle gates where a group of guards were escorting Edmure Tully out in chains. 

He’d have to figure out a solution for him and Robyn Arryn. They were both heirs of two of the major houses in Westeros, but they still needed to be punished for allying against House Targaryen. 

“And what of the Lannisters, Aegon?” Rhaenys asked, her tone simmering with hate.

“Joffrey will be executed before the eyes of Gods and men. Those innocent of any crime will be sent back to Casterly Rock where they’ll spend the rest of their days. If Cersei ever steps foot outside of her home, she’ll be branded a traitor of the crown, and be punished accordingly.”

“And…?” Rhaenys urged him to continue with a look.

“Tywin and Jaime will be sent to the wall and live out the rest of their days―”

“WHAT!?!” Rhaenys exclaimed in outrage. “You’re just going to let them live?! After all they’ve done to us? They nearly killed off our entire line.”   
  
“I can’t afford to fight two wars right now.” Aegon explained, his patience running thin. “Kevan Lannister has already agreed to come to King’s Landing and bend the knee. If I kill his brother now―”

“I don’t care about the politics!” Rhaenys retorted. “This is about righting the wrongs done to our family.

“You never had to witness what they did to our mother, Aegon.” She continued, her voice trailing off towards the end. “Her screams as they held her down… I can still picture it everytime I close my eyes. All I could do was hide as I watched the life leave her eyes…”

Aegon paused as he saw the tears swell in Rhaenys eyes. Ever since he was aware, Rhaenys had always been the tough older sister who’d watched over him and Dany. But Aegon could see, when her mind would drift back to their mother, the hardened shell around her cracked to reveal just a little girl who’d witnessed the unforgiving nature of this world.

“Those are evil men, Aegon. Who saw an opportunity to kill and rape in the disguise of war.” Rhaenys pleaded. “Mother’s soul will never rest easy if we don’t avenge her.”

“Those who were responsible  _ will  _ answer for their crimes. I promise, Rhae.” Aegon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “When the Mountain is brought to King’s Landing, we  _ will _ have our revenge for mother.”

“And who do you think gave the orders, brother? The Mountain is nothing more than a mad dog. Without Tywin, he wouldn’t have―”

“Enough, Rhaenys!” Aegon exclaimed, cutting her off. “I have already decided. We will have our vengeance, but I’ll not let it distract us from the war ahead. Fly to Winterfell within a fortnight and do as I say. I’ll hear nothing more of this.”

Rhaenys glared at him with all the fire she could muster. “Is that an order,  _ your grace? _ ” she challenged.

Aegon stared back unblinkingly before their silent tension was interrupted by a soldier.

“Your grace… Princess…” The man addressed, bowing to them both before Rhaenys stormed off in anger. For all of her Dornish looks, Rhaenys truly embodied their house words. More so than Aegon and Dany combined.

“The castle has been secured, your grace.” The Dornish captain informed. “The soldiers have laid down their arms, and Lord Edmure Tully has been escorted to the prisoner’s tents.”

“Very well. And the Blackfish?”

“He died… fighting your grace.” The captain responded hesitantly. 

Aegon nodded in dismissal, seemingly unbothered by the news, “I want a full report on the casualties by tomorrow morning. Tell Prince Oberyn I’ll be expecting his presence at dinner tonight.”

“Yes, your grace.” The man answered before hurrying back to his duties.

Aegon sighed as he looked back towards the dragons in the distance. Rhaenys had flown off on her dragon, probably to blow off some steam. And Dany was god knows where, the girl had a free spirited nature despite their tough childhood.

Aegon reached out with his bond towards his dragon, who laid on the banks of the Trident. Rhaegal responded immediately, and within a few powerful flaps of his wings, he was perched atop Riverrun, ready for Aegon to climb on.

_ Hopefully Dany would be much better company than Rhaenys had been. He needed to take his mind off this war, if only for a bit. _

* * *

**Winterfell**

Jon trudged through the godswood as the soft snow crunched below his feet. Winter had not yet arrived, but snow had already begun to fall in the North. The maesters expect it to be one of the longest winters they’ve seen in decades. With any luck, they’ll have enough stores to last through whatever lays ahead of them.

_ Winter is Coming. _

Those words that Lord Eddard had reminded them of repeatedly.  _ Would he have led the North down the same path?  _ Jon wondered in longing. 

Growing up, the godswood had been Jon’s refuge within his own home. It was the only place where Lady Catelyn’s glare couldn’t reach him, and the servants’ couldn’t whisper behind his back. He’d even grown used to the bloody faces carved into the weirwoods, providing a haunting presence to the forest.

_ The Old Gods. _ Lord Stark had mentioned.  _ They watch through the faces, and if you lie before them, they’ll know.  _

Jon could still see the picture in his head. The serenity of his Lord father sitting besides the heart tree next to the hot spring. He’d always been sharpening his greatsword Ice, though even Jon knew back then that Valyrian steel never needed to be honed.

_ Perhaps it was his way to calm his thoughts,  _ Jon reminisced fondly, his hand brushing against the wolf pommel of his own valyrian blade.

Jon took another few steps before he stopped at the sight before him. 

“Didn’t know you prayed to the old gods as well now.” Jon called out softly, announcing his presence.

Sansa glanced up quickly, slightly startled from her position before the heart tree.

“Sorry m’lady. Didn’t mean to intrude.” Jon gave a small bow before retreating from Sansa’s privacy. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait Jon…” Sansa called out hesitantly, making him pause in his steps. “Would you join me?”

With a soft nod, Jon took a seat beside her on the branch, the hot spring shielding them from the biting cold. 

“I’ve always prayed to the Seven.” Sansa began softly, “Back when I was a foolish girl, I prayed that I would live happily as a queen. When they’d taken father, I’d prayed for his safety… More than a thousand prayers, and they never answered any of them.”

“Perhaps that was their way of punishing me.” Sansa’s tone filled with sorrow, “For all the wrongs I’ve done.”

“Sansa.” Jon reached out to grasp her hand within his. “None of that was your fault. D’you hear me? The Lannisters are responsible for everything, don’t let them make you think otherwise.”

“But I killed father.” Sansa refuted in distraught. “I killed him, Jon. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive today, I’m sure of it. If only I wasn’t such a stupid girl.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Jon repeated. His arms wrapping around her delicate shoulders in comfort. “The Lannisters are the ones who took advantage of a little girl. They’re the ones who took father’s head without remorse.”

“Do you hate me?” Sansa asked, tilting up slightly to look into his eyes. “For what I’ve done…then and when I was a child. I was terrible to you when we were younger, when you had no reason to be treated that way. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I could never hate you, Sansa.” Jon responded in reassurance. “All that matters now is that you’re here with us, safe in Winterfell.”

“Would you forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Jon insisted with a small smile to relieve Sansa of her guilt.

“Please Jon,” Sansa pleaded, “I wouldn’t be able to live knowing you’d still resent me after everything you’ve done for me. If there’s anyway to repay you, I promise I’ll do anything to―”

“I forgive you, Sansa.” Jon relented, breaking into a small chuckle at her persistence.

“Thank you.” Sansa said, before closing her eyes and leaning into Jon’s frame, wrapping her arms around his torso. His fresh pine scent leaving a sense of comfort that Sansa hadn’t enjoyed since she’d left Winterfell. 

She thought back to the nights they’d spent under the stars and night sky. When they’d been forced to make due out in the fields as they tried to escape the Lannister pursuers. They’d been wrapped together, much like they were now, during those cold restless nights. But even with the enemies close on their trail, Sansa hadn’t had such peaceful nights free of nightmares ever since she stepped foot in King’s Landing. 

Looking across the serene godswood, the snow blanketing the ground with crimson red weirwood leaves falling from its branches. 

_ Perhaps things may all work out in the end. This was where she belonged. Where they belonged. _

_ Home. _

“It’s peaceful.” Sansa whispered after a few moments of silence.

“Hmm?”

“The godswood.” She explained. “It’s peaceful. There wasn’t a godswood in King’s Landing, but there was a heart tree. Or a stump rather… the tree had probably been cut down long ago. It was the only time I had peace to myself in King’s Landing. It was my safe haven from the Lannisters, no matter how brief it was.”

“That’s why you pray to the old gods now?” Jon wondered.

“Aye.” Sansa responded. “But that was only part of the reason. The Seven had never answered my wishes, but the old gods did. When I had kneeled and prayed before that weirwood in King’s Landing, the old gods answered my prayers.”   
  
“What did you pray for?” Jon asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

“Joffrey had been… particularly mad that day.” Sansa began explaining. “Robb had just won a huge victory at Oxcross, and his Kingsguards had left more bruises than usual. I prayed to any of the old gods that would listen, for someone that would take me away from King’s Landing.”   
  
“The next day you were there.” Sansa explained in wonder. “You came for me when no one else would. Not even Robb. I thought I would die in King’s Landing but you saved me. All on your own.” 

Jon pressed a kiss to Sansa’s forehead, holding her closer in his embrace.

“You’re the reason I believe in the old gods now, why I pray to them today.”

“And what did you pray for?” Jon asked, mumbling softly into her auburn hair.

_ Family. _


	4. Tactics

**Winterfell**

Robb Stark ran a hand through his auburn curls, releasing a small sigh in frustration at the headache already beginning to form. He crumpled the piece of parchment before him that had only carried dire news from the South. The people gathered in his solar shared his anticipation in what’s to come.

_The Eyrie had surrendered, the enemy forces took Riverrun, his cousin Robyn Arryn and his uncle Edmure Tully were now in the hands of the Targaryens as hostages._

Robb had known this was a likely possibility, but they were moving faster than he had anticipated. The joint host of Tyrells and Martells have likely already turned their attention North, and they’ll be crossing the neck within only a few fortnights. Soon they’ll be upon Winterfell, and yet, they still haven’t found a solution to defeat their dragons.

“We should send more forces to the Neck, your grace.” Rodrik Cassel advised. “It’s the most defensible position, and no southern army has ever crossed it. If we allow them to pass, there’ll be nothing standing between their armies and Winterfell. It may be too late to stop them then.”

“No.” Robb refused with a wave of his hand. 

“I left 5,000 men with Lord Reed when I led my host back North from Riverrun. He had instructions to fortify Moat Cailin and defend the Neck as best he could. It won’t be enough to stop their enemies, but sending more men will be pointless if we have no answers to their dragons. All we can hope for now is that Lord Reed buys us enough time.”

“Aye.” Jon agreed. “The bogs of Greywater will be difficult to navigate for any foreigners, but not impossible without their dragon’s view from above. Moat Cailin is a ruin compared to what it once was, but if defended correctly, it could be more difficult for Aegon to take than Riverrun.”

“The dragons will have nowhere to land in the swamps,” Jon continued to explain. “And if the men are well hidden within the fort and the bogs, it could take more than a month for Aegon to bring his armies through the Neck.”

“Has your friend come up with any solutions?” Robb asked, glancing towards Jon’s companion who joined them in Robb’s solar.

“Y-your grace…” The plump man stuttered, glancing nervously at Jon before he received a small nudge in encouragement. “The _Scorpion_ can be deadly when used in the right situations, and it should be easy to produce with the amount of lumber available in the North. But as Maester Luwin mentioned, it would be hard to hit a dragon mid flight, I’d imagine… your grace.”

“How many do you think we can manage to build within a month?” Robb questioned. “If we have enough of these weapons, surely we’d be able to hit the dragons by luck.”

“That may be true, your grace. But the chances would be quite low.” Samwell responded. “There are too many possibilities in a dragon’s flight path for it to be predictable, no matter how many you fire simultaneously. At the distance the _Scorpion_ bolts would have to travel, even wind can play a significant factor in their trajectory.”

Robb frowned at the thought, seeing the fault within the plan.

“And even if one manages to hit its target, it’s more likely than not that the wound is non-lethal. And if we don’t take down the dragons within one round, we’ll be finished.” Sam continued. “The _Scorpions_ will take far too long to reload, more than enough time for their dragons to destroy them. Even if we do manage to reload them, their riders wouldn’t be stupid enough to fly anywhere close, rendering the weapons useless anyways.” 

“What would you propose then?” Robb asked, “It seems we are to be at their dragon’s mercy if there’s no way to stop them.”

Sam shifted nervously in his position. “Y-your grace, it’s nothing more than an idea of mine. I’m not even sure if it would work in such a situation, I’ve never even heard of it being used in the past…”

“Well go on then.” Robb urged. “It’s not like we have any better plans.”

Samwell wiped away at the beads of sweat on his forehead before continuing. “The _Scorpion_ may not work, but a Catapult might, your grace.”

“A catapult?!” Robb exclaimed in bewilderment. “How in the world is a catapult going to take down a dragon? It’s even slower and less accurate than a _Scorpion_. How’d you expect to kill a dragon in the air by throwing boulders at it?”

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to kill the dragons with any weapon, your grace. Not while it’s in the air, and not without the luck of the gods.” Samwell speculated. “But the dragons are not invincible. They say that during the Dance of the Dragons, thousands of small folk stormed the Dragonpit with nothing but spears and axes and slayed five of their dragons.”

“If we can just bring the dragons down from the skies, we’ll have a chance against them.” Samwell explained. “The _Scorpions_ then can be deadly, and even archers can immobilize the dragons.”

“And how do we bring down a dragon with a catapult?”

Samwell produced a large scroll by his side, and he unfurled the parchment across the table like a map. The hand-drawn sketch spanned the entire page, made with extreme detail depicting the design.

“This is the idea that I have.” Sam began. “Traditionally, catapults are able to hurl large boulders nearly 1,000 feet. That distance should be enough to keep the dragons within range. The main issue would be accuracy.”

“With this design,” Sam pointed towards the drawing laid out on the table, “You wouldn’t have to really worry about that. Essentially, it’s an extremely large net with four boulders attached to the corners. Before firing, they would be bundled together within the bowl of the catapult. But because of the angles of the trajectory upon launch, the boulders would naturally spread out as they fly towards their target, which unravels and expands the net, allowing the object to cover a very large area.”

They all huddled around the table, studying the designs with intrigue. 

“It would be up to the builders to see if this idea is possible, but the theory and science behind this machine does hold up.” Samwell added.

“How large can we make this net?” Robb asked him, not taking his eyes off of the design.

“With a typical catapult you can hurl a stone of around 250 pounds.” Sam explained, “The four stones tied to the net’s corners do not need to be that heavy, they only need to serve the purpose of anchoring the net onto their target. We’re not relying on the weight to drag them to the ground, but the net should entangle their limbs and prevent their wings from beating.”

“Plus, from what we’ve heard of the dragons, they’re still younglings.” Jon added from Robb’s side. “And their riders are inexperienced, unlike their ancestors. They never encountered a life threatening situation while sitting atop their dragons.”

“Yes, so taking all of that into consideration,” Sam continued, “The catapult should be able to launch a net that covers an area wider than the largest warship in the known world. It should be enough area to cover more than two dragons of their size lined up wingspans across.”

“Is this viable?” Robb asked Maester Luwin in confirmation.

“I’ll have to consult the builders.” The old Maester responded, his own intrigue was drawn to the design on the page. “The design seems sound, and I don’t see why it wouldn’t function the way Sam here has described it would. We should have all the material needed as well. Lumber and stones shouldn’t be hard to come by. Though as for the rope… With how large the nets are to be, and with how many rounds we’ll need for each catapult… I can’t imagine we’d have enough rope to weave these nets.”

“We’ll take care of it.” Sansa spoke up, drawing the attention of the room. “There should be more than enough yarn here in Winterfell to weave into rope. Lord Manderly’s last shipment of supplies carried cotton fibers as well. I’m sure we can sacrifice a few winter coats to ensure the survival of our people.”  
  
“I’ll have the women and children begin work on the weaving.” Sansa suggested. “We won’t just sit aside while the men fight for us. Northern women are stronger than that, and it’s time I do something instead of just watching by the side.”

Her declaration had stunned most of them to silence. Robb only nodded slightly in gratitude before Sansa leaned back into her seat. She looked towards Jon and was glad to receive a small smile of encouragement. The small silence was broken as he turned his attention back towards their discussion.

“If we’re building them to be stationary weapons, we could afford to make them much larger than they normally are for siege weapons. That way they could carry a larger load and shoot a further distance as well.” Jon said. “I’d imagine all you would need is a rotating platform at the bottom that allows the catapult to pivot in its spot. Anything else, such as the angle of release, can be controlled by the crossbar on the catapult itself.”

“That is true. Though making the catapults larger can also make it more difficult to reload. A longer catapult arm will require more torsion to accelerate. And more torsion will require more force to cock the arm back in position.” Samwell added in caution. “This entire plan still hinges on the fact that, with an element of surprise, we can guarantee a hit with the first round of catapults. But in the case that they all miss, it would be disastrous if it takes too long to reload for a second round.”

Robb pondered in silence for a moment, playing through all the scenarios within his head. None of his lessons as a child had prepared him for this day. For dragons to descend from the skies, and for him to have to develop a strategy to counter that. 

But seeing the plan laid out before him, Robb knew it was their only chance, no matter how unprecedented the weapon seemed to be. 

“We’ll build the catapults as large as possible and place our bets on the gamble that one will be able to hit on their first try.” Robb decided. “I’m sure there’s a way to distribute the force needed to reload the catapult. Perhaps extra levers in pulling back the arm?”

“That is possible,” Sam answered, “Though it may take more than 10 men to make a difference.”

“Do it.” Robb answered without hesitation. “The army would be useless hiding within the walls of Winterfell anyways. Only so many soldiers are needed to man the walls. The rest of them will be put to use operating the weapons. 10 men to a catapult.”

“I want you to start picking out the men, Ser Rodrik.” Robb ordered, turning towards the Master-at-Arms. “Pick out men you could trust, and have them begin learning how to operate the catapult. We’ll need at least 500 men, and I want each of them to learn how to aim, fire, and reload the catapult in case any of them are incapacitated.” 

“If we are to build them as large as possible,” Robb turned towards Sam once again, “How large of a net can we fire with each round.”

“Knowing the maximum capabilities of the force of torsion within a catapult, I would guess to say we could hurl nets as large as an acre.” Sam answered. “The area would even be able to cover Balerion the Dread in his prime. With just a few shots, half the entire sky would be covered in nets.”

“Alright then. Bring these designs to the builders and have them start immediately on the construction.” Robb commanded, turning to his squire Olyvar. “I want any man skilled in carpentry from Wintertown to help in construction as well. Let them know they’ll be compensated well for their work, and they have the King’s gratitude for their work.”

“How many would you deem to be necessary, Samwell Tarly?”

“I would say as many as we can afford to have… but realistically, we’ll need enough to cover the right areas strategically.” Samwell explained. “One of the weaknesses of the catapult will be an attack from above, an angle where it won’t be able to fire its rounds. If we place the catapults strategically around the walls of Winterfell, we should be able to cover all the blindspots as well as the entire area surrounding Winterfell.”  
  
“There are thirty watchtowers within Winterfell, and more than twenty turrets along the outer and inner walls combined. The castle walls are nearly 100 feet high, making a perfect vantage point for the catapults.” Sam continued. “I would recommend building at least 50 catapults, spread out among the turrets and towers to surround Winterfell evenly on all sides.”

“Very well. I want 80 catapults built within a fortnight. 50 of them we’ll build stationary atop the turrets and towers here in Winterfell. I want the other 30 catapults to be built to be mobile on four wheels, just as the siege catapults were.” Robb ordered to their surprise.

“If Lord Reed holds off the Targaryen forces as long as we hope at Greywater Watch, I’ll plan to make our final stand at Moat Cailin. Unfortunately, they don’t have enough lumber at the Neck, so we’ll have to build them at Winterfell and transport them down South when the time comes.”  
  
“But if Lord Reed fails to stall them long enough, then we make our final stand here at Winterfell.” Robb strategized. “The mobile catapults could still be of use then. We could situate them in the Wolfswood and near Torrhen’s Square in the Barrowlands. They’re likely places for Aegon to land his dragons after a tiresome journey, and will be perfect opportunities for an ambush.”

“And send another raven to Lord Reed.” Robb turned to face Maester Luwin, “Surely he’s learned of Riverrun’s defeat as well by now, but inform him of our plans. He is to stall the Targaryen forces as long as possible, but he is also to avoid defeat at all costs. If the Neck holds in a month’s time, we’ll ride South with our army and catapults to join their forces at Moat Cailin.” 

With that final order, Robb stood, ending the meeting. They had a long day ahead of them with lots of work to do.

“I’ll let the builders know immediately, your grace.” Samwell gave a bow before gathering the contents laid out before the table.

The others had left quickly as well, tending to their duties, leaving only Sam with Robb and his family.

“I understand your family is from the Reach, Samwell.” Robb called out, freezing Sam in his steps. “And the Tyrells march against us now. Would this be a problem? Going against your own people?”

Sam turned around slowly before answering. “With respect, your grace, they are not my people. My father tried to have me killed when I was young… he called me a craven, and a shame upon his name. I was only sent to the Night’s Watch so he’d avoid making himself a kinslayer. I hold no love for my family other than my mother and my brother. And from what I hear, they have stayed at Horn Hill and aren’t part of the host at Riverrun.”

“Good. I’m sorry for doubting your allegiances, but you seem to be a loyal man… a loyal friend to my brother at the very least.” Robb threw a glance to his side at Jon. “The North owes you for your service. I do not know what we’d have done without your help. When the war is won, I’ll see to it that you are properly rewarded. Name anything in my power and I’ll see to it.”  
  
“W-well I’ve always wanted to be a Maester…” Sam began abashedly, “To become a scholar and read books… but my father never—”

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Robb interrupted. “I could give you a small piece of land in the North, or enough gold to raise a family.”  
  
“No, your grace.” Samwell responded resolutely. “It’s all I ever wanted to be a Maester.”

  
“Very well, Sam.” Robb relented with a smile. “When the war is over, we’ll send men to escort you to Oldtown where you’ll study to become a Maester. Hopefully one day, you’ll return to serve Winterfell.”   
  
“Thank you, your grace. I would be glad to.” And with a quick bow, Sam hurried out of the solar.


	5. Court

**King’s Landing**

A small chatter filled the Great Hall as the people waited in anticipation. The minor lords in attendance at court were gathered around the cavernous throne room and above at the raised galleries. Hushed whispers were exchanged at the rumors of this meeting as the King sat upon his throne.

It was no secret that Joffrey was to be executed. That had been the way of things for centuries. A new King cannot be crowned until the old is put to rest. All that remained to see was how the rest of the Houses would be dealt with.

Aegon sat stiffly upon the Iron Throne, his posture straight and regal as he scanned the small crowd gathered before him. _For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what drove his ancestors to build this ugly monstrosity that he sat upon now._ The razor sharp edges of steel threatened to open his skin at the slightest movement.

But he knew, from his lessons when he’d barely learned to read, that the throne was not meant for comfort. _Heavy is the head that wears the crown_ , and Aegon learned quickly the consequences of shirking one's duties as a King.

Just one look at the Kingdom Robert Baratheon left behind proved more than enough to Aegon that Westeros needed a real King, a competent one upon the throne. 

But more importantly, the Iron Throne cautioned all who sat upon it to be wary of complacency. Aegon reminded himself as his eyes glanced over the gossiping and simpering lords before him. These people, who could go from bribing and currying favors in one moment to plotting and backstabbing in the next.  
  


The loyalty of these lords swayed more than a banner in the wind. _This was the viper’s nest._ And one wrong move, and they would turn against him. _Dragons or not._

Aegon clenched his fists at the people of King’s Landing. Even when they’d been under the oppression of Joffrey’s rule, they were quick to denounce the foreign army invading with dragons, forgetting about all the cruelty during his reign. But now that Aegon had taken the city, they were also the first ones to try to endear themselves to the crown, as if they’d been loyal supporters of House Targaryen ever since.

He hated those people, but Aegon knew that if he wanted to play the game ― the maneuvering and the politics ― he’d have to learn to deal with these pests. 

_You’re a Dragon._ Aegon reminded himself, remembering the words of his uncle. No matter how cruel Viserys had been growing up, he had instilled the pride of House Targaryen within all of the Targaryen children. _These small lords are nothing but sheep, cheering for anything that would provide a spectacle._

They’d cheered for Joffrey when he had removed the head of his enemies, and Aegon suspected they would cheer when he removed Joffrey’s head as well.

Aegon was glad to have his true loyal supporters by his side. No matter what, he knew he had Dany, Rhaenys, and his White Cloaks, who’ve been with him through everything.

The chatter in the Great Hall slowly started to die down as sounds of footsteps approached the entrance to the throne room. Chains rattled on the ground as it was being dragged slowly.

The crowd parted to see Tywin Lannister being escorted forward to the throne room by the men of the city watch. His hands and legs were cuffed in chains, and yet the Old Lion still stood tall, an air of pride and defiance.

The man behind him was a much different story. If it weren’t for the blond hair, Jaime Lannister wouldn’t have been recognizable even to the people of King’s Landing. His eyes were sunken, and his cheeks hollowed in as if he hadn’t eaten for days. The Kingslayer looked only like a ghost of his past self, his eyes staring distractedly at nothing. Only with a push of the guards behind him did he continue forward in chains.

Aegon sneered in contempt at the man who’d once sworn to protect his family. He’d looked forward to making the great Kingslayer kneel before him and beg his forgiveness, but now all that stood before him was a pathetic shell of the former Kingsguard.

The pair of Lannisters made for an interesting image as they came to a stop before the Iron Throne.

_The Old Lion staring right into Aegon’s eyes with cold fury, while Jaime’s posture was hunched over, doing anything to prevent meeting Aegon’s gaze._

“We’re gathered here to decide your fate, Lannisters.” Aegon proclaimed, loud enough for all to hear. “House Lannister was given an opportunity to surrender peacefully, but you chose to meet us in battle instead. Because of you, hundreds of lives were lost needlessly.”

“I hereby offer you a choice. Take the Black, and you’ll live out the rest of your days at the Wall. If you refuse, you’ll meet your end within a fortnight and be executed before the people of King’s Landing.”

“There are no laws stating that one can compel another to join the Night’s Watch against their will. Not even a King.” Tywin spoke up, his cold, grizzly voice not revealing an ounce of emotion. 

“Very well then. It sounds to me as if you’ve made your choice.” Aegon concluded. “If you find that death suits you better, than for your crimes, I hereby sentence you to ―”  
  


“I have not finished.” Tywin interrupted, his demeanor unchangingly calm in the face of his impending doom. “For what crimes am I being judged? I have done no wrong in defending my house as any lord would against a foreign invader. Would you fault a man for protecting his own family? Then you should punish all of your subjects likewise, for they would have done the same.”

“You mistake me, Lannister.” Aegon warned, as he stared back with equal intensity. “You are no subject of mine. You are a prisoner of war, and it is my decision what is to be done with you. Lord Kevan has already surrendered, and bent the knee in fealty. You will answer for installing and defending a false King and keeping the crown from its rightful owner. The Iron Throne is House Targaryen’s by right.”  
  
“There is no such thing as the rightful King, only who currently sits upon the Iron Throne ” Tywin scoffed in ridicule. “The line of succession and the right to rule falls apart when the throne is challenged by an outsider. The crown belongs to the victor, it’s as simple as that. Aegon Targaryen, first of his name, had done exactly that, and you are no different. You cannot condemn me for installing my own king when you are doing the same.”

“Then you should have no issue with my decision, Lannister.” Aegon grit out, losing his patience by the second. “It’s indisputable that I am the victor of our battle, and I hold your fate within my hands. If you refuse to take the Black, it’s clear to me that you’ve chosen death.”

“Is this how you wish to start your reign?” Tywin challenged unflinchingly. “Continuing in the footsteps of the Mad King and executing all those who oppose you. I served as Hand towards the end of his sanity. I witnessed the injustices, the suffering he brought amongst the people. Is that what you want to be known as? The king who returned to throw Westeros back into hell.”

Aegon bristled at his accusations, his blood beginning to boil in anger.

“When your ancestor conquered the Seven Kingdoms, he showed his foes mercy.” Tywin continued. “Loren Lannister was defeated by Aegon and his dragons in the Field of Fire, but even after submission, he was allowed to remain in the Seat of Casterly Rock and rule as Warden of the West.”  
  
“I have shown you mercy.” Aegon sneered. “It was you who decided to turn your back on the choice I’ve offered you.”  
  
“The Wall is hardly a mercy.” Tywin rejected. “A place for rapists and thieves is worse than exile.”

“It’s more mercy than you deserve, Lannister.” Aegon lashed out. “Where was _your_ mercy when your men cut through my family during the rebellion. Innocent people who had nothing to do with the war were killed indiscriminately. You nearly killed my people to the last member, and you have the gall to ask for mercy?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon noticed Jaime flinch slightly, his chains causing a slight rattle. His eyes developed a haunted look within them, and they were the only indication his mind was present with them in that moment.

“I did no such thing.” Tywin defended. “It was the doing of war-lusting fools. I only gave the order to secure the city against Aerys’ madness. Queen Elia’s death is not on my hands.”

“Enough! I’ll hear no more of this.” Aegon stood from his throne. “Do you have any last words, Tywin Lannister?”

“I see that you’re stubborn in your refusal to see reason. Let the lords of Westeros know that you have condemned me for crimes which I hold no responsibility over. If I won’t see a just trial to prove my innocence, then I’ll let the gods decide my fate...”

Tywin's words caused suspense to build within the Great Hall.

“…I demand a trial by combat.”

* * *

_“WHY!?!” A pair of haunting violet eyes stared into his soul. “You swore to protect my family. Why did you let them all die?”_

_Jaime would remember those eyes anywhere. Those eyes that silently pleaded for his help, but he could only look away in shame._

_Protect the innocent. Defend the weak._

_But in the face of the King, Jaime could only watch as Rhaella suffered in silence._

_The scene shifted to another woman, her gentle black eyes only looking at Jaime with betrayal._

_“You promised.” Elia cried out, the life leaving her eyes. Jaime could only imagine the scene she saw before she died. The life of her children in danger as she laid there helpless to do anything._

_“Oathbreaker!!!”_

_“Kingslayer!!!”_

Jaime snapped awake, his body jerking violently causing the chains to snap against his wrist. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark cell, remembering where he was.

_This must’ve been how Ned Stark felt as he was being locked down here in the dungeons._ Jaime thought grimmly. Soon he was to meet the same fate as the honorable Warden of the North.

The Targaryens have come back and taken what was theirs. The dragons flew high above the sky, instilling fear and bewilderment within the people.

But all Jaime saw were the Targaryen children, and his failures they reminded him of.

_You have forsaken every vow you ever took._ Those words from Catelyn Stark rang truer than ever.

One look at Aegon, and Jaime saw the Prince that he’d failed to protect. Rhaegar had been honorable and valiant. He was kind to the people and would have made a great King. 

Daenerys held an uncanny resemblance to her mother. Looking at her only brought Jaime sorrow and shame at the Queen that he’d sworn to protect. In the end, he’d broken that oath as he had all the others, not even being able to protect Rhaella in her own home.

But neither of them could compare to his horror at seeing the last dragon rider. Rhaenys was the splitting image of her mother Princess Elia. Having inherited all of her features, Jaime nearly mistook her for Elia’s ghost when he’d first laid eyes upon her. 

The women who had been raped and killed by his father’s men. The Princess who had never treated him as a bodyguard but as a friend.

He failed Elia more than anyone else. Her gentle eyes held no anger or contempt, but only sorrow at his betrayal. 

If Jaime could take everything back, he’d do it within a heartbeat. He should have snuck Princess Elia out of King’s Landing when he had the chance. He should have protected her as the other Kingsguards protected her children. He was the only one who had the chance and yet he wasn’t there.

Now stripped of everything in his cell, all Jaime had left were his sins.

* * *

Daenerys knocked softly upon Aegon’s chambers, creaking the door open hesitantly at the lack of response. She peeked her head in slowly to find a mess strewn about the room, a wine goblet laid near her feet, no doubt having been thrown across the room in Aegon’s fit of anger. The contents on the desk now laid spilled across the floor, and there Aegon stood. Leaning against his desk, a storm brewing within his eyes.

He said not a single word as Dany approached him slowly, his arms folded across the chest as if deep in thought.

“Egg, are you alright?”

“We should have killed him when we had the chance.” Aegon hissed, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Those damn Lannisters. I show them one ounce of mercy, and they’ve made me look like a fool in front of everyone.”

Dany stayed silent, only leaning up against the desk beside him. The silent questioning in her eyes urged Aegon to continue.

“He refused to take the Black.” Aegon explained shortly. “And the Old Lion has snaked his way so that everything falls in his favor. He’s demanded a trial by combat, and if I refuse I’ll be branded ruthless and unjust in the eyes of the gods. We’ve worked so hard to erase the image of the Mad King from our name, but with this stupid little stint…”

“All will be alright.” Dany reassured, looking softly into Aegon’s eyes. “Nothing Tywin will do can stop us from our destiny. Can’t you see, Egg? It was meant to be. All the change we’ve brought upon the city, the people are already happier than before.”

“I’ve visited the orphanages, Egg.” Dany recounted. “They say they’ve never had such generous help from the crown. The children aren’t starving in the streets anymore, people are finding work in the projects to rebuild the city. Don’t listen to what Tywin says, you’re far better than the rest of them. The people know it. And the lords you’ve shown mercy to ― the Tyrells, the Baratheons ― they know it too.”

Daenerys brought her hand up to Aegon’s face and caressed his cheek tenderly, finally softening up his features as he leaned into her touch.

“Maybe Rhaenys was right.” Aegon lamented. “It would have been far easier, to have just ended the war with our dragons. Eliminate all of our enemies.”

Aegon wrapped his arms gently around Daenerys’ petite frame, catching her sweet scent as she hugged her curves to his torso. Dany had such a delicate body, but Aegon knew she could be fiery when she wanted to as well.

“Perhaps that would have been easier, but it would’ve been the wrong choice.” Dany suggested. “Oftentimes the correct answer is the harder answer. What we’ve chosen is ten folds more difficult, but it’s the right choice. I’m sure of it.”

“Even if people will die in the wars to come?” Aegon questioned. “Even if we must execute people for fighting for their homes and their families?”

“In war, hard decisions have to be made.” Dany insisted. “You’ve done everything in your power to prevent their deaths, but in the end, it was also their choice to take up arms. Remember the bigger picture, Egg, what we sought out to do in the beginning. Think about how many lives we’ve saved from needless death. The War of the Five Kings would have killed tens of thousands more soldiers had it not been for us. Our dragons ended the wars in the South without bloodshed.

“That’s without to mention all the innocent lives we’re saving right now.” Dany continued. “With the war throwing the Kingdoms into chaos, how many of the common folk do you think would have survived the upcoming winter? _Millions_ would have died from starvation alone. The lords of Westeros never batted an eye at the people; we’re the only ones who are capable of saving them.”

“Dany…”

“Remember our dream? As children?” Daenerys asked with a small smile. “We’d come back home, and make it a better place than the shithole that it had been. And at the end of the day, you’d be a great King and rule justly over your subjects…”

“With you by my side as Queen.” Aegon added, his breath tingling across Dany’s face.

Dany closed the distance between them and met his lips softly with her own. Aegon closed his eyes as he held Dany closer in his arms. Their tongues danced around teasingly, bringing a familiar sensation of belonging with each other. 

They broke apart, each breathing heavily but their foreheads remained touching.

“I love you, Dany.”

“I love you too, Egg.” She leaned up to meet his lips once again, feeling the small smile across his face.

They enjoyed each other’s embrace for a few moments longer before they broke apart once again.

“Do you think Rhaenys will be alright? By herself, alone in the North?” Dany asked with a tinge of worry.

Daenerys still felt ashamed whenever she would share these moments of intimacy with Aegon. Rhaenys had always looked after them as children, but ever since, Dany could feel Rhaenys drifting away slowly as Dany and Aegon became bonded to each other. 

Dany knew once upon a time that Rhaenys had thought that she would also marry Aegon. It had been the way of Targaryen siblings throughout history, but Aegon seemed to only have eyes for Dany. If Rhaenys held any resentment or jealousy towards her, she never let it show, always being an older sister by her side even if Dany was really her aunt.

“She’ll be fine.” Aegon reassured. “Rhae can handle herself just as well above Eliaxes. She’ll make sure to stay outside their range and force them to send an envoy out to her. The North is barren, and easy to spot people within a mile if she avoids the forests. I know Rhaenys might be hot-headed at times, but she knows better than to challenge Winterfell itself.”

“I just don’t like the feeling of this.” Dany admitted. The feelings of nervousness in her stomach would not abide no matter how much she tried to calm herself. “We should’ve stuck together. There’s only the three of us left in the world. We’re what’s left of House Targaryen, and we need to look out for each other at all times.”

“She’ll be back before we know it.” Aegon consoled. “And if the Starks remain stubborn, we’ll fly North together and meet her at the Neck. She’ll be happy to learn that if all goes well for us here at court, she’ll have gotten her wish all along. Tywin would get beheaded once his champion is defeated in his trial.”  
  
“Champion?” Dany looked up at Aegon. “Who has Tywin Lannister named as his champion?”

A scowl formed upon Aegon’s face at the thought as his hands clenched into fists tightly by his side.

“His son, Ser Jaime Lannister.

_The Kingslayer._ ”


	6. Confrontation

**Winterfell**

Jon walked through the courtyards of Winterfell, the people scurrying hurriedly from one task to another. The unusual bustling of activity threw him off slightly as the people of Wintertown began settling within the castle and workers labored away at the construction.

The process was coming along nicely. In not even a few days, the builders had laid the foundation for all the platforms atop the turrets and began the framework for the catapults. 

It was a peculiar sight ― catapults being mounted on castle walls ― but Jon suspected if their plan worked to fruition, within a few years, these weapons would decorate the walls of every castle in Westeros.

The Targaryens had swept through the Kingdoms like Wildfire, defeating the Baratheons and Tyrells before they were even made aware of their full threat. It was only fortunate that the Targaryens had first made landfall in the Dornish peninsula, giving the North enough time to prepare for their inevitable march up the Neck. 

The Riverlands and the Vale barely stood as an obstacle in their path; Aegon and his dragons had trounced their ill-prepared allies, and Jon knew if they wished to prevent the same fate upon the North, they’d better make good use of the time they have. 

Fortunately for them, the Targaryen’s own men seemed to be their greatest obstacle for the moment. The Dornish host, which comprised more than half of Aegon’s army, consisted of mostly foot soldiers who were ill-equipped to travel out of their native deserts, let alone a long march across the entire continent of Westeros. 

But sooner or later, the enemy would be upon them, and Jon feared to imagine the bloodshed of the wars to come. Dragons were not something the boys were taught to prepare for in their lessons, but Jon hoped they had done their best with what they had. 

Even then, no matter how well their catapults worked against the dragons, Jon knew this solution would only be temporary. Suppose they were able to beat the Targaryens back. How long would that peace last? Ten years? Twenty Years?... before the dragons grow as large as Balerion the Dread and no net, arrow, or spear could ever hope of taking it down. 

And what would they do then? The Targaryens would eventually return to claim Winterfell, as well as the rest of the North, and by then, not even the Wall would be able to stop them.

But Jon knew there was no point in worrying for the future if they couldn’t protect their homes in the present. They had decided to walk this path, and their only choice now was to fight. 

Turning around a corner in the hallways, Jon found himself in the Great Hall, where the rest of the Starks were currently having their luncheon. 

“Come! Meal with us Jon. We’d just begun, and there’s plenty of food left.” A woman called out, her smile beckoning him forward kindly. She sat next to Robb at the main table with Lady Catelyn seated on his other side. There was a glow about her that brought a smile to everyone in Winterfell… Even Lady Catelyn would show a true smile around her, despite her initial reservations about the girl. 

A small bump had begun to swell in her belly nearly a moon ago, and if it weren’t for the impending war, surely they’d be celebrating Robb’s fatherhood by now. 

“Of course, my queen.” Jon gave a small nod, watching as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“How many times do I have to remind you, Jon Snow?” She reprimanded, “I refuse to be addressed so by my own good-brother.”

  
  
“Fine. Fine. Have it your way Talisa.” Jon gave up with a small chuckle. “I should know better by now than to try to win an argument against you.”

“Well at least that makes one of you.” Talisa responded with a look of glee before she turned purposefully to Robb. “It seems my own husband has yet to learn that. Perhaps you’d best spend more time teaching him, Jon?”

Robb only rolled his eyes at his wife playfully. He’d lost count of the times she had teamed up with his brother against him, but Robb couldn’t deny that they were also the ones capable of persuading him out of his stubbornness. 

“Maybe I just like making my wife angry.” Robb said, suggestively, making Talisa’s cheeks blush bright red. “You are adorable when you pout… see, you’re doing it now.”

  
  
“Robb.” His mother chastised from beside him. “Leave the poor girl alone, you’re making her uncomfortable in front of everyone.” 

Talisa gave Lady Catelyn a thankful glance before she looked at the rest of the Stark siblings. Sansa had a soft smile on her face, perhaps brightened by the presence of Jon who took the seat next to her. 

“How is the training going?” Robb asked, swallowing a mouthful of stew. “Couldn’t have been a pleasant morning, dealing with all those men.”

“It was alright.” Jon shrugged nonchalantly. “Could be rowdy at times, but they learn quickly. Most know the basics of the catapult by now and just need live practice.”

“Good. The first few catapults should finish within a few days, and we already have ammunition made.” Robb began thoughtfully. “The men could take turns using those to practice; I want them to be able to hit targets consistently within a fortnight. We don’t have much time left, I’m afraid the men might have to be pushed harder to be prepared.”

Jon nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to split the men into squads. The Umbers and Mormonts have strong men, good for reloading the catapults quickly. But we’ll probably want people with better heads giving commands to aim and fire in each squad.”

“I’ll have Jory ask around for some of the brighter men we have.” Robb decided. “The catapults will do no good if we have idiots manning them. But if worse comes to pass, we’ll test the soldiers in practice and choose the men we need then.”

“Aye. Sam had suggested we build a few _Scorpions_ as well. If we have the supplies, it can’t hurt having more defenses than necessary. Even if we bring down the dragons with the weighted nets, arrows might do nothing against their scales.”

Just then, a loud horn blared from outside, startling everyone from their seats. Jon and Robb shared an ominous look before they began making their way out of the great hall. 

A second horn was sounded, making them speed up their pace. They knew that could only mean one thing.

_Enemies approaching._

With large strides, Jon bounded his way up the stairwell to the top of the inner walls, skipping steps along the way. Robb was not far behind him, but they all froze upon seeing the sight in the distance.

_It was too soon, they’re hardly prepared_

Just in the horizon, Jon could make out a green shape, the lizard-like body clear as day even from this distance. It stood out in great contrast to the white blankets of snow covering the lands, but the rider seemed not too concerned with hiding their presence anyways. 

They must’ve flown right past the Neck and Moat Cailin, faster than any raven could’ve possibly traveled in warning. 

_Do they plan to take the Winterfell just as they had the Eyrie?_

“Get everyone inside! NOW!” Robb yelled, shooting commands to the men around him. “Clear the courtyards, and have all the archers gathered within the towers. Do you hear me? No one atop the walls, stay within the towers.”

“Robb! The people.” They turned to find Sansa and the rest of their family, slightly out of breath from catching up with them. “They’re still making their way from Wintertown. If they’re left outside the walls…”

“Jory!” Robb looked around to find the captain of his guard beside him. “Gather a few men and evacuate the rest of the common folk. Tell them to leave everything behind, we’ll only have a few minutes before they’re upon us.”

  
  
“Yes, your grace.” Jory hurried off, barking orders to the men around him.

“We need to get everyone inside.” Robb said as he urged his sisters back into the castle. “Listen. Don’t leave your chambers no matter what. We’ll come get you once its―”

A thunderous roar shook the air as Jon looked to see the dragon touch down less than a league South of Winterfell. The rider looked towards them expectantly as if awaiting a response to the challenge. 

“What are they doing?” Sansa asked in confusion. The rider seemed content in waiting, neither advancing nor attempting stealth.

“It’s an envoy.” Jon realized, noticing the rider’s flowing hair in the distance. “Aegon’s sister most likely. They’re here for a last chance at negotiations, but they’d accept nothing less than bending the knee, no doubt. Or else, there would be no need to fly to our gates for a compromise.”

“Aye.” Robb agreed. “I’ll have to ride out to meet her and hear their terms.”

“Have you gone mad!” Catelyn scolded harshly. “They’ve brought fire-breathing heathens to our gates and you wish to go out and meet them? They’ve already taken my sister and my brother. I won’t let them take my son as well.”

“I have to go meet them.” Robb said resolutely. “They won’t listen if I just send one of my men, and who knows what she’ll do if we ignore her. The Targaryens know better than to attack a diplomatic envoy, even their gods would frown upon it.”

  
  
“The South aren’t like Northerners, Robb.” Sansa implored. “There’s not an ounce of honor in their being, you think they’ll listen to their gods? Father was the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms and look what they did to him in the South.”

“Sansa’s right, Robb.” Jon supported. “She may just be here as an envoy, but there’s no reason to take such a risk. You’re too valuable for that; if you fall, the entire North falls.”

“What do you suggest then?” Robb questioned. “We can’t just ignore her. The people are still evacuating Wintertown. If she decides to use them as hostages, there’s nothing we’ll be able to do. Someone has to go out to meet her.”

“Aye, you’re right. _Someone_ has to.” 

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?” Sansa asked, grabbing hold of Jon’s arm. “You said it yourself, it’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why it has to be me.” Jon continued. “Robb is too important to risk his life over, but the other lords won’t be able to represent the King in the North. I’ll go and meet with this Targaryen to hear their terms.”

“Jon you’re my brother. I’m not about to risk your life―”

“It’s the only way!” Jon insisted. “You know as well as I do that there are no other options, it has to be me.”

Robb’s resolve was slowly wavering much to Sansa’s horror.

“No Robb you can’t do this.” Sansa pleaded. “Give the command, and forbid Jon from going. Please!”

  
  
“Sansa that’s enough.” Jon asserted. “Don’t make it any harder for Robb. This is the only choice we have.”

“No it’s not. There’s always another choice.” Sansa begged, tears falling from her eyes. She wrapped her arms tightly around Jon, doing everything in her power to prevent him from riding to his own death. “You promised me, Jon! Don’t you remember? You promised you’d never leave me alone in this world, and that you’d be here to protect me.”

Jon could only rub Sansa’s back soothingly. “I intend to keep that promise, Sansa. I’ll never leave you behind, I promise. I just have to meet with their envoy, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Jon broke apart from their embrace to Sansa’s reluctance, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. 

“Take them inside the keep, Robb.” Jon turned to make his way down to the courtyard where only a few lords gathered, awaiting their commands. All of the townsfolk had already been escorted within, and the soldiers were armed and ready. “I’ll make sure they fully understand the North’s desire for independence.”

“Jon!” Robb called out at last. “Take my personal guards with you. Make sure you return to us safely.”

With a quick nod, Jon left to carry out his duty.

* * *

  
  


**King’s Landing**

Aegon walked slowly down the dark corridors of the dungeons, his eyes nearly watering at the pungent odor. The smells of the sewers and garbage that plagued the city were especially concentrated in these underground tunnels, adding a level of torture to those imprisoned here.

That small thought brought a smile to Aegon’s face, knowing the proud Lord Tywin laid rotting in his cell, breathing in shit and waste. 

They’d already begun clearing out the streets of Flea Bottom and rebuilding the sewers, but the smell would remain for far longer. 

Finally they came upon Tywin’s cell, lit dimly by torches. Two guards stood at attention by the chambers, watching his every move. Aegon had made sure to assign people he trusted with the Old Lion, men he knew couldn’t be bought with Lannister gold. There was no escaping for Tywin, and Aegon wanted him to fully know that.

“Leave us.” Aegon commanded, with a wave of his hand.

With a quick bow, the two guards left wordlessly, having full faith in the Kingsguard behind Aegon. He was the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms afterall. Aegon knew he had nothing to fear.

“Here to offer me one last chance?” Tywin mocked, his voice carrying as much venom as ever. “To admit my guilt and take the Black.”

“No.” Aegon hissed, his voice echoing softly in the cell. “I’m done with mercy. I’ve offered it to you once, and you spat it right back in my face. Now the gods will decide your fate.”

“You know Ned Stark was offered to take the Black as well, in exchange for his confession.” Tywin recounted. “He gave up his honor, confessed, but Joffrey killed him anyway. What’s stopping you from doing the same?”

“There’s no need to worry yourself over such fickle matters, _Lord Tywin_ .” Aegon sneered. “Your champion _will_ be defeated before the eyes of the Seven and the people of King’s Landing. I’ll enjoy watching the life leave your eyes then, knowing you threw away your own chance.”

“Why are you here then?.” Tywin growled. “Just to gloat? You think killing me will be the end of it? My legacy lives on―”

“No.” Aegon refuted simply. “Your legacy dies here and now. Your house will live on through your brother, but your name will be forgotten… a stain upon the history books. Only songs they’ll sing of you will be a warning against arrogance, that even lions can burn under dragonfire.”

“And what of you, _child_?” Tywin scoffed. “You think you’re some honorable king that people will sing songs about. You and I are no different, only you choose to hide behind a mask of righteousness, as if you serve the realm. We both know you’re after the same thing all men are after…

… _Power”_

Tywin had learned long ago that if he wished to thrive in this world, he must have power within his grasp. It was a concept that his father hadn’t understood, thinking his seat secured him power when he held none in reality. His bannermen disrespected him, and the other kingdoms disregarded him. It took the extinction of an entire noble house for Tywin to regain the fear and respect House Lannister deserved. 

“Power makes right. You said it yourself.” Aegon responded, throwing his own words back at Tywin. “When you rebelled against our house, you had no thoughts of what’s best for the people, you only thought of what’s best for yourself. And over the dead bodies of innocent men, women, and children you walked.”

“The price of power must always be paid…” Aegon continued. “You paid for yours with gold and daughters, but I’ve bought mine with dragons. When they’re fully grown, none would dare to oppose them. House Targaryen will usher in a new era where the people no longer have to suffer under lords like you, where war will be a relic in the past.”

“And you think there’ll be peace then?” Tywin asked cynically. “Men have the desire for violence at their core. It’s in their very nature. You might disagree with my actions, but everything I did was to ensure the safety of my house. For generations to come. And the only way to achieve that was to be the ones in power. You may call that selfish, but what you’re doing is no different.”

“They may have the desires, but they would be fools to act upon them. We’ll act as the law to enforce justice across Westeros so that all families are protected. Not just my own. That’s where we’re different, _Lord Tywin_. I intend to make the Seven Kingdoms a better place, and that begins by ridding the world of people like you. Those who’d sacrifice the lives of millions for your own gain.”

“And what happens when the people need protection from you.” Tywin retorted, stunning Aegon into silence. “Who do the people turn to when you grow to become your grandfather? And if not you, one of your descendants. What are they to do then? Your dragons will be unstoppable then, a far better weapon than the Mad King ever had. Who protects the realm then?”

Aegon could only simmer in silence before Tywin continued.

“In the end, no one can protect anyone. It’s only in your own strength you can find safety. The only difference between you and I is that I’ve shed my childish view of this world long ago, and learned that the only necessity is power. I’m not condemning you for what you’ve done; can’t say I’d have done it any differently. But you’re a fool to think you’re the savior of the realm, as if the gods have chosen you to be King.”

“You’re right.” Aegon relented. “Eventually there may come a point where the coin lands on the wrong side and we see Aerys reborn on the throne. But I could only control what’s in my grasp, and that’s the immediate future of Westeros. For however long I can, Westeros will see peace. It will be a better world than before, but you won’t be there to see it. I’ll see you at the trial, Lord Tywin, and that’ll be the end of it. The Kingslayer’s a good swordsman, but he stands no chance.”

“Who’ll he be fighting?” Tywin asked as he looked up at the boy-king.

“Me.” A voice came from the shadows as the White Cloak behind Aegon stepped forward into the torchlight. His face had aged and hardened with a noticeable stubble, Tywin could recognize that man anywhere. He was the best swordsman Westeros has ever seen after all.

_The Sword of the Morning._

* * *

  
  


**Winterfell**

The horses shifted in nervousness as they stood not twenty feet in front of the terrifying beast. The air around them seemed to sizzle in heat, the snows melting away slowly with each huff from the dragon’s snout.

It was easily larger than Winterfell’s castle gate. With its wings spread out, the dragon alone nearly matched the size of Jon’s entire envoy. _If this was just a youngling, Jon feared to imagine what a full grown would look like towering over him._

Jon forced himself to calm his nerves; it wouldn’t do well to show the enemy an ounce of weakness. He felt Ghost’s presence beside him, the direwolf unafraid of the much larger beast that stood before him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense his companions and their discomfort at the situation. They were among the best warriors in the North, but should the dragon decide to burn them all, no amount of skill with a sword or shield will protect them.

_Even Dacey Mormont and Smalljon Umber had fears,_ Jon supposed, never thinking to see those warriors in such a state. They had been the only ones to accompany him besides a few other guards. 

The standoff between the lone rider atop a dragon and a group of mounted men lasted in a tense silence. The rider had her eyes trained on Jon, and he stared back unflinchingly, taking note of her features.

_This had to be Rhaenys._ Her skin was light brown, with dark hair, and a slim figure. If it weren’t for the slight violet shade Jon detected in her eyes, she would fit the perfect image of a Martell in Jon’s mind. 

But sitting atop her dragon, adorned with garments of black and red, there was not a doubt in anyone's mind this was a Targaryen. She held a regal, yet exotic beauty that was only enhanced by her image as a warrior. The sword strapped at her hip suggested she didn’t rely solely on her dragon. 

“Welcome to the North, princess.” Jon mustered with false politeness dripping in his tone. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I’m afraid we don’t have the accommodations for your companion here.”

“You’re not Robb Stark.” Rhaenys stated with a small rise in her eyebrow. “Is that the one you call King? Hiding behind his walls, while he sends his men out to fight for him?”

The men besides Jon bristled at her provocation, but they held their tongues, knowing their place. Jon didn’t rise up to her challenge, knowing she was trying to get a rise out of him.

“I can see Aegon’s one to hide behind his sister’s skirts then. Sending you all the way North in his stead.” Jon shot back, much to her amusement. “That’s the King _you_ follow? One who refuses to meet to state his own terms?”

_An interesting man._ Rhaenys thought as he faced her and Eliaxes without hesitation. _It seems the North wasn’t just brute men and savages afterall._

“I am Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen, third of her name, heir to the Iron Throne and Lady of Dragonstone.” She declared, staring down at the envoy before her. “I believe I’m more than capable of representing the will of the crown and my brother. The same cannot be said for you. Who are you to ride in Robb Stark’s place?”

“My name is Jon Snow, princess. And I represent my brother and the North in hearing your terms.”

“Snow?” Rhaenys pondered curiously, “Never thought to see bastards rise high in this world outside of Dorne.”

“Southerners have very little knowledge of the North.” Jon responded. “We’ve come to understand that and accept it. We serve no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. If you’ve come here to negotiate, then let’s not waste any more time on pleasantries.”

“Negotiate?” Rhaenys asked in bewilderment. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Lord Snow. House Targaryen is not here to negotiate anything but your surrender. House Arryn has fallen. House Tully has fallen. We hold their lords as prisoners of the crown. If House Stark has as much honor as everyone claims, you’d be wise to bend the knee and surrender immediately.”

“That won’t happen, princess.” Jon said with a shake of his head. “You’ll find it much more challenging here in the North. Surely you’ve seen the lands of the Neck. It would take moons before you could bring an army across it into the heart of the North. And what then? You expect to be able to hold the entire North? We know these lands better than any Southerner ever will. We grew up here… this is our home, and we don’t intend to give it up to foreign invaders such as yourself.”

“You’re right. It may take moons, but eventually we’ll be upon Winterfell.” Rhaenys countered. “What will you do then? There’s no way you can withstand three dragons and an entire army at your doorsteps. Would it be worth it then? To see your home and your people destroyed all because of pride?”

“This isn’t for pride.” Jon glared back at her accusations. “This is about what’s best for our people... for the North. We’ve suffered enough under a Southern ruler. My grandfather and uncle were burned alive by the Mad King. My father was wrongfully executed for crimes he didn’t commit. My sisters, not even women grown, suffered at the hands of a Southern court, trapped within that viper’s nest. I’m sure you can understand why the North has developed a strong distrust of outsiders.”

“I am not denying any of that.” Rhaenys insisted, “Those were terrible crimes committed by evil men, but we intend to correct that mistake. If you swear fealty to House Targaryen once more, we’ll unify Westeros and bring upon a better world.”

“And how will you do that?” Jon challenged. “Like I said, you Southerners have no knowledge of the North. Why should we let you govern matters that you know nothing about? Only a Northerner can truly unite all the houses in the North. Even if you defeat House Stark, the rest of the North will never bend the knee.”

“This goes beyond just your kingdom. All Seven Kingdoms must be reunited or there’ll never be peace in Westeros. The other houses will never rest if the North is allowed to secede, and conflict will forever exist on this continent. Being under one crown, united against all outside threats is what’s best for the realm.”

Rhaenys’ tone had begun to rise in frustration. These Northmen were as stubborn as they come, unable to see what’s right in front of them.

“What’s best for the realm?” Jon ridiculed. “What’s best for yourself, you mean. You only wish to conquer the North so that the other houses won’t question your power. If we remain independent, your crown will never be secure. That’s why you’re pushing your armies North in this desperate attempt to press your claim. 

“You really believe you’ll be able to fend our dragons? You’re a bigger fool than I thought, Jon Snow. Riverrun fell in less than an hour, and those who refused to surrender were put to the sword. Do you really wish the same to befall your house? It would be a shame to see a bastard rise this high only to fall to his own foolishness.”

“I represent the will of the entirety of the Northern people, not just my own whims. It is our desire to be free of the chains that the Southerners have cast us in. I appreciate you riding this far North to meet with our people, but I’m afraid there’s nothing more to discuss, Princess. We stand firmly on opposing sides, and I see no compromise in sight. I wish you good fortunes in the war to come.”

Rhaenys began to fume at the insolence of the man before him. This low-born bastard who spoke with the confidence of a King. 

“By rejecting our term, you do understand that any actions that follow are justified in the scope of war.” Rhaenys threatened. “I may have come peacefully as an envoy, but that stops the moment you reject the mercy we offered.”

The men around Jon Snow swallowed subtly in nervousness, but he stood headstrong facing down the dragon by himself.

“You’d be a fool yourself if you believe you can defeat us on your own.” Jon retorted. “Winterfell is one of the most fortified castles in Westeros, the keep itself more so than Riverrun and the Eyrie combined. It doesn’t rely on a geographical barrier, so your dragons will have no advantage here. Do you really believe you can accomplish anything without the other dragons or an army? Plus your dragon looks worse for wear. Even I could tell the long trip into the heart of the North was more taxing for it than you’d like to admit.”

Rhaenys clenched her fists tightly around the saddle strapped across Eliaxes. It was true the flight had been difficult for the young dragon, but Rhaenys had no doubt in Eliaxes’ capabilities. 

“You underestimate me, Jon Snow, and that’ll be the death of you. All I have to do is give one command, and you’ll be burnt to a crisp before anyone can blink. Is that how you want to spend your last moments, Jon Snow? It’ll be a shame to see such a pretty face turned to ashes.”

Jon smirked humorlessly at the threat. “I’m nobody. Just a bastard who grew up without a mother. The North will do fine whether I live or not… But burn me, and the rest of the kingdoms will see what the Targaryens are truly made of.” Jon said as he spread his arms invitingly. “Show them you’re no different from the Mad King after all, to kill a diplomatic envoy in their own lands.”

“Didn’t expect you to be the suicidal martyr, Snow.” Rhaenys admitted. “I’ll let you live for now, but how long do you think it’ll take for my dragon to burn all your supplies? Food shortages are common during winter, I hear. How long do you think the North will last if I destroy your glass gardens and grain silos?”

She let this warning hang in the air between them, both knowing this was not an empty threat as her last one had been.

Before Jon could respond, a man behind him let out an outburst in anger.

“You Targaryens and your fucking dragons.” Smalljon Umber exclaimed furiously, “You think you’re invincible but you’ll be shot out of the sky before you even know what―”

Before Smalljon could even finish, he was cut off by a deathly glare from Jon as he whipped his head around to silence the man. But by then, it was already too late.

Rhaenys’ eyes had squinted to focus on the castle in the distance. Just barely did she make out the contraptions being built atop the towers and turrets. 

_Were those Scorpions?_ Rhaenys contemplated. _Like those siege ballista they’d seen in Essos?_

If the North had already begun developing strategies against their dragons, Rhaenys had to let the others know about this. It would still be difficult to hit their dragons, but precaution would have to be taken.

_Unless…_

“Is there a reason you wanted to hide those from me?” Rhaenys smirked knowingly. A quick flash of panic in Jon’s stoic eyes let Rhaenys know she had hit the nail on its head. It was a look that she would’ve missed if she hadn’t been studying him so intently; the man seemingly emotionless except for his constant brooding look. “Did you expect to use those to catch us by surprise?... Or perhaps… you’re afraid that I would find out before you’re fully prepared.”

“Are you really willing to take that risk, Princess?” Jon challenged, “Your dragon is too tired to fight. Do you really think you can take out all of them before one strikes its target? All it takes is one shot to send you and your dragon tumbling down.”  
  
Rhaenys let out a small chuckle at that, “You’re an honest man, Jon Snow. Lying is not your strong suit.” Making up her mind, she urged Eliaxes to take flight towards the unmanned turrets. 

“Soves.” A with single command, the dragon crouched low, the muscles in its hindlegs wound tight and ready to leap into the air.

_Shit._ Jon cursed under his breath. They were far from prepared for a dragon attack, and Jon doubted the archers would be able to hold off a dragon, even a tired one at that. And with one swoop, Rhaenys can set back their progress by more than a fortnight. By the time Aegon’s armies are upon them, it’ll be too late.

The last thing Jon heard was Dacey calling out his name beside him and the loud flaps of the dragon’s wings.

In the blink of an eye, before Jon could even realize what he was doing, he reached out to the dragon leaping into flight. Feeling a familiar sensation tugging at his mind as it often does with Ghost, Jon’s vision slowly faded to white.


	7. Trial

**Winterfell**

Robb spared a glance out in the distance at the snowy landscape, his envoy meeting with the dragon and its rider. His hands fidgeted in apprehension as he paced back and forth from within the safety of the main keep. The people of Wintertown had been evacuated, and archers were ready to man the towers. But Robb knew that without their catapults, they stood no real chance against a dragon other than to hide within their walls.

What was even more concerning was the safety of his men, who rode out to the dragon princess. His own brother, who led the envoy without even a blink.

Sansa was in no better state beside him, her hands gripping the windowsills tightly as her eyes remained trained on the distant exchange.

Neither side seemed to have nudged a single muscle in the last few minutes, locked firmly in a verbal spar. Robb had no doubt in Jon’s ability to represent the North. There was no one he trusted more than his brother, but that also made him worry for Jon’s safety. There was no say if the Targaryens would respect morals and the safety of diplomats. With the power of the dragon, Robb may have well just sent Jon riding to his death. 

Robb let out a small sigh as he cursed under his breath. Even after all Jon had done for him, this was how he was repaid for his actions. What scared Robb even more was how quickly he had accepted when Jon made the suggestion; he’d nearly exhaled in relief when Jon volunteered to ride out as an envoy.

The shame was threatening to eat away at Robb’s conscience.  _ This was not the way father taught us. This is not what father would have done. He would have rode out and met the Targaryens head on as a Stark would. _

Once again, doubt swirled within him, asking him if he was truly worthy of his title. The Northern Lords had named him King in the North not because of who he was, but who they believed Lord Eddard Stark raised as a son. 

An old thought surfaced in Robb’s mind once again, born from the guilt of Jon’s treatment as a bastard.  _ What if Jon had been the true born son of Eddard Stark. He resembled father not only in appearance but character far more than Robb ever could. Perhaps everything would be different if Jon was in my place.... Perhaps things would be better. _

Before Robb could even ponder further on that thought, a startled gasp from Sansa pulled his attention towards the window.

“Something’s not right, Robb.” Sansa exclaimed as she pointed in the distance.

The dragon appeared ready to leap into the air, its wings stretched out wide. The horses teetered around nervously as the Northern party drew their swords. 

“Jon!!!” Sansa cried out in desperation before she took a hold of Robb’s arm. “You have to do something, Robb. She’s going to kill him.” 

A loud roar screeched through the air as the dragon took to the air, headed straight for Winterfell. But before it could even elevate fully into flight, the dragon stumbled awkwardly, crashing back down to the ground. Its rider was thrown off her saddle into the snowy earth, and the dragon struggled to get back on its feet, as if it was fighting with itself.

Robb could only look on as the rest of his family stared out the window equally dumbfounded. The dragon thrashed around wildly on the ground, its wings beating helplessly into the snow. The rider laid a few strides away from the beast, unmoving. She was likely unconscious, having been thrown from the dragon’s back.

Across from them, Jon laid unmoving as well, his body resting limply in the snow. Dacey Mormont and a few others had unmounted and kneeled over him in concern, but he didn’t seem to be responding.

“What happened?” Robb asked, willing anyone to answer him. The dragon seemed to still pose a threat, struggling uncoordinated on the ground as its claws came dangerously close to its unconscious rider.

“Jon’s warging into the dragon.” Came a voice from behind. Robb turned to find Bran sitting calmly by his giant companion, Hodor. “They’re called Skinchangers. Jon has the ability to enter the mind of another and control their body from within. He’s doing so with the dragon now, most likely.”

“Warging? That’s not a real th―”

“It’s true.” Sansa insisted, cutting off Robb in his disbelief. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. When we made our way back from King’s Landing, Jon had warged into the body of Ghost during the night. He would hunt and patrol the area through his direwolf. It was as if they were of the same mind.”

“There’s magic in our blood, Robb.” Bran explained. “Magic that belonged to the Children and the First Men that has been passed down generations in the Stark family. I’ve dreamt of being with Summer. Surely you’ve had similar experiences with Greywind.”

“Not to that extent.” Robb responded with a gulp. “Aye, I’ve had dreams of being with Greywind, but they were just that. I was never in control of anything, only watching through his eyes.”

Bran nodded in understanding. “Some inherit more magic in their blood than others. It seems Jon has a strong ability if he’s able to warg into a dragon as well. You have to take me to the Heart Tree in the godswood, it’ll be our only way to help Jon.”

“Is this another one of your dreams with the Three-Eyed Raven?” Robb questioned dubiously.

“Aye. He’s sent me visions” Bran answered simply as he spared a glance out towards the struggling dragon in the distance. “Jon cannot control the dragon fully. He’ll need my help. If we’re able to bring the dragon to the Heart Tree, the Three-Eyed Raven will be able to keep it obedient for the time being.

*  * *

Jon blinked his eyes in a state of confusion. The last thing he’d felt was his body slumping against his horse before falling into the snow. He could still hear Dacey Mormont’s voice calling out faintly in the distance. Everything was hazy, as if his mind had floated far away. The sensation was familiar yet strange, the instincts within him screaming to flee.

Jon slowly swung his head around to glance at his surroundings, noticing his neck bending at inhuman angles before settling on his own body. A pair of sharp talons dug into the snowy earth as a sea of green and blue scales climbed up his body. Massive wings stretched out to the side of him, easily as wide as the Kingsroad.

It took a few moments before the startling realization finally hit Jon. He must’ve warged into the dragon in an act of desperation to stop them from moving on Winterfell. But now that his mind had entered that of the dragon, Jon was at a loss for what to do.

The sensation was far different than it had been when he would warg into Ghost. Whereas he felt trust and companionship with his direwolf, all he felt now was fear and exhaustion. The dragon’s mind thrashing around wildly, no doubt terribly startled by the presence of Jon in its consciousness. Though his mind was able to overpower the young, tired dragonling, it refused to bend fully to Jon’s will.

The Northern envoy stood a small distance away, eyeing him with fear and apprehension. Jon noticed his own body slumped across his horse at the front, with Lady Dacey shaking his body desperately. 

Jon needed to get this dragon far away from them somehow. This was their only chance to subdue the beast, but Jon had no idea how the creature would react if it were to break free of his control. The last thing he needed was for him and the rest of his party to be burned up in the dragon’s rampage.

Moving his limbs around experimentally, Jon found the dragon much harder to control than his direwolf. The movements were uncoordinated, and its senses were clouded with confusion. Jon cursed in his mind as he slowly felt his grasp slipping away. The dragon continued to struggle for control, and it was all Jon could do just to latch on to its consciousness. If anything, at the very least, he needed to keep the dragon as comatose as possible and hope someone else comes up with a solution.

But even then, Jon knew this would last only a few fleeting moments. The moments where he had entered Ghost’s mind, he’d been able to warg for hours, entire nights even. But now, he could feel the power draining from his body, the strength needed to subdue the dragon’s consciousness would eventually overwhelm his own capacities.

_ “Jon.” _ A voice suddenly cut through, carrying like a whisper through the air. The soft echoes rang in his head as if the sound came from his own mind.

_ “Jon! It’s me. Listen, we don’t have much time, you have to do as I say.” _

_ “Who…? Bran?” Jon questioned, his thoughts voiced out loud in his head. “How are you…” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I can warg, Jon. Just like you. But I’m speaking to you right now through the Three-Eyed Raven’s power. You need to bring the dragon to the Heart Tree.” Bran answered. “Trust me, Jon. It’s the only way we’ll be able to restrain it. The power of the Old Gods rest in the weirwoods, and their magic will help us against the dragons.” _

_ “How? I can barely hold the connection with it.” Jon retorted. “It’s fighting back against my control. Even now, I can feel it like a raging inferno in my mind.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You have to be one with the dragon, Jon. As if you’re with Ghost.” Bran offered. “Trying to control the dragon as you would your own body will never work. You have to convince it to obey your will and act in its own movements.” _

_ “How am I meant to do that?” Jon asked bewildered. “Even the Targaryens have trouble controlling their own beasts, you think this dragon will listen to me?” _

_ “You have to try it, Jon. It’s our only option now.” Bran convinced. “The skinchanging magic should help you in tricking the dragon. It may believe your commands to be its own thoughts and will.” _

Releasing a sigh in exasperation, Jon poured his focus towards the dragon’s consciousness, who continued to struggle violently within his mind. Jon reached out slowly and cautiously, as he would a startled horse, presenting as calm a presence as possible.

The dragon released a huge roar in retaliation, and Jon could feel the emotions of the beast. Despite its enormous size, it was still an adolescent. And being blind from the world only induced its panic and fear.

Unfazed, Jon reached out with his mind once more, trying his best to instill a sense of trust with the dragon. Even with its consciousness lashing out at everything, Jon continued on unflinchingly before he felt the dragon backed up into a corner. Avoiding any sudden provocations, Jon refrained from exerting his control to show that he meant the dragon no harm. Only after a few moments of stillness did the dragon finally begin to calm.

Gently, Jon reached out once more, feeling at the bizarre presence of the dragon’s mind. It was as if he was touching the dragon itself, stroking its snout as safely as he could. 

_ I won’t hurt you.  _ Jon implored, as he felt the walls around the dragon’s mind begin to relax. The beast was still cautious, but he was beginning to open up to Jon. Bit by bit, it was as if a dam had been broken, as thousands of images began flooding into his head. Scenes he’s never seen before. 

_ Golden deserts that stretched as far as the eye can see. Great exotic cities that were filled with strange people wearing odd clothes. A small fleet of ships crossing the stormy Narrow Seas. _

In an instant, these images were gone, disappearing as fast as they came.  _ Were these the dragon’s memories?  _ Jon shook his head as they began to fade and blend into his own, nearly indistinguishable from each other. 

Only one image stood out from the rest. No doubt the first thing the dragon ever saw in this world. And just as it did with the dragon, the first image it saw was deeply ingrained within Jon’s memories as well.

It was an image of an innocent girl with light brown skin, dark hair, and violet eyes. She smiled softly with a look of adoration as she whispered the dragon’s name. 

_ “Eliaxes.” Jon whispered, calling out to the dragon.  _

The previous fear was replaced with a sense of curiosity as the dragon prodded Jon’s consciousness with interest. His presence felt similar to her companion and the rest of her brethren, something familiar in his blood. Without much more hesitation, Eliaxes submitted to Jon, allowing him fully into her mind.

With just a few beats of its wings, Eliaxes took off into the air, headed towards the location Jon had shown her in his head.

The image of a Heart Tree in the middle of the Godswood. 

* * *

**King’s Landing**

With a resigned sigh and a heavy heart, Jaime made his way for the plaza, his every movement scrutinized by a pair of guards. A large crowd had gathered to witness the Trial by Combat between the two legendary warriors, but Jaime’s mind was anywhere but on the fight ahead.

Glancing up in the stands, Jaime noticed the King and the Princess watching him with a sharp glare, no doubt hoping to end this as quickly as possible. His opponent stood impassively across the arena, his armor as glorious as Jaime had remembered.

Jaime adjusted his armor before he stood to face Ser Arthur Dayne. His own white cloak having long been stripped from his shoulders. All he had now was a suit spare armor, looking as if he was a mystery knight in a tournament. 

“Just give up, Kingslayer.” A White Cloak provoked from beside him, one of the newer Kingsguards that Jaime didn’t recognize. “You had no chance against Ser Arthur in your prime, you think you’ll do any better in your state now? You’ll be dead just like the rest of your traitorous House.”

Ignoring his taunts, Jaime walks forward silently to the arena. The crowd jeered at his presence, but his eyes remained on Aegon, willing him to make the next move. With a slight wave of his hand, the King signaled the beginning of the trial as a horn sounded to the side.

Unsheathing his sword, Jaime began advancing towards his opponent before stopping just out of reach. Ser Arthur had unsheathed his own blade, wielding  _ Dawn _ with natural ease. The two warriors circled each other slowly as they tried to find an opening in their defenses. Their eyes stared into each other’s, looking for any sign of movement. 

Ser Arthur’s face was blank and focused, but Jaime could recognize that look in his eyes. He saw it anywhere he went ― those people that judged him guilty the moment they set eyes upon him.

“Why?” Ser Arthur finally asked, as they continued their dance around one another. “Why did you do it? You swore as a knight, as a Kingsguard, to protect the royal family. You knelt before me as you pledged your vows. Why did you betray your brothers? Your Honor?”

“Betray?” Jaime ridiculed. Both warriors moved like lightning as they closed in on each other, blades meeting in a storm of slashes and sparks. Each fighter tried to get the upper hand before they were met in a deadlock. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you still believe in your vows.” Jaime continued with a growl. “ _ Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Obey the King, obey your father.  _ Tell me what you would have done? The honorable, noble Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, who could do no wrong. Tell me what you would’ve done in my shoes. Would you have still protected the Mad King? Is that your honor?”

“I’m not talking about the King.” Arthur grit out as he shoved Jaime away with his blade. “I’m talking about the rest of the royal family. You let your father’s men run rampant through the keep. They killed Elia.” Arthur accused, as his eyes began to shine with emotion. “She was innocent, and you knew this. If Gerold and I hadn’t made it back to King's Landing in time, who knows what would’ve happened to the children. You failed Aegon and Rhaenys. You failed Princess Elia. Where were you when she needed your help?”

  
With a grunt, Jaime closed in on Arthur once again. His sword moved with incredible speed and lethalness, but Arthur met him at every thrust. His strikes were incredibly calculated, showing his years of experience, but Jaime was anything but calm at the moment. His eyes were clouded with emotion as he faced off against the man he’d always admired. 

“Where was  _ I _ ?” Jaime repeated as they once again separated. “Do you mean before or after the Mad King ordered Rossart to burn the city?”

If Arthur was taken aback at all by Jaime’s words, he didn’t show it as he continued to eye Jaime’s movement.

“Would you have still protected him then?” Jaime ranted on. “ _ Burn them all. _ He said.  _ Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds. _ He planned to destroy the whole city and everyone in it, man, woman, and child. I  _ saved _ this city, the millions living within, and what do I get for it? Everywhere I look, people like you judge me for what they can’t possibly understand. By what right?”

Jaime shot forward with a hard thrust from his right before spinning with a slash.

“By what right do you judge me for the sins of another.”

Each word was emphasized by a powerful strike filled with grief, anger, and guilt. The two warriors met once more in a blinding display of swordsmanship, the fighters seemingly matched to a standstill. But anyone with experience can see that the duel will only last for a few more minutes. Jaime had already begun to tire, his thin, starved body no longer able to support his strikes. Arthur, meanwhile, had yet to break a sweat, remaining mostly on defense.

Their blades came to another deadlock as they stared at each other in silence. “I can never forgive you.” Arthur accused. “You let her suffer. You let her die.”

“Don’t you think I already know that?” Jaime growled in outrage as he spun in a flurry of strikes. “I’ve made my decision and I have to live with it for the rest of my life. You’re not the only one who cared for the Princess. I see her face every night; it haunts me to this very day. Don’t you think I wish I could have gone back and fixed everything? You’re just as guilty of what you’re accusing me of. Where were you when they stormed King’s Landing, where were you when Elia was being raped?”

Arthur danced back within a blink of an eye, narrowly missing a strike to his shoulder. It was the first time he had been startled by his opponent as his hands shook slightly at Jaime’s words. 

“Our prince wanted us elsewhere…” Arthur responded ruefully as he regained his composure. “I convinced Gerold we were needed more in Kings Landing, and we were fortunate to make it in time to―”

“But you weren’t.” Jaime retorted with a sneer. “You were too late. You may have been in time to save the children, but you let Elia die as much as I did. You have no right to accuse me of anything. You failed her just as I had.”

Before anyone could blink, Arthur was upon him.  _ Dawn _ flashed in a fury of strikes, relentlessly pushing Jaime back. In just a few seconds, Jaime had been disarmed, his sword flying off and clattering against the ground. He had been forced to his knee with  _ Dawn _ pointed at his neck.

The crows stood and cheered for the crown’s champion, but the two warriors were in a world of their own, each looking to settle their past.

“Yield.” Arthur warned with a low growl.

With a small sigh, Jaime closed his eyes and nodded, signaled his defeat. He had long accepted this… ever since that fateful day, he knew it would one day come to this. Perhaps this was the gods' way of punishing him for the sins he’d actually committed, to die by the house he’d failed to protect. To die by the brothers whom he’d sworn to serve.

“I loved her.” Jaime whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the crowd, but Arthur was just able to pick up his words. “More than her foolish husband of a prince, and more than you ever did.”

Arthur could only watch in silence as the guards came to place chains around Jaime once more. The horn sounded, officially signalling the end of the trial.

“For what it’s worth, I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” Jaime threw over his shoulder. “I hope you’ll never come to the day where you have to choose between love and duty, as I had. If you do… I hope you make the right choice.”

With that, Jaime was escorted away as Aegon stood to make his final announcement.

“The Gods have made their will known, Tywin Lannister.” Aegon proclaimed as the crowd quieted. “I, Aegon of the House Targaryen, sixth of his name, King of the Andals and Protector of the Realm, hereby sentence you to death.”


	8. Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that are still worried for the pairing of this story, I promise that it'll be as tagged, and the Jon and Sansa relationship will be strictly platonic as siblings.

**Winterfell**

Rhaenys awakened with a grunt, her eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. A slow wave of anxiety washed over her as she took in her surroundings. A strange chamber, if it could even be called that. It was scarcely furnished, and the wood floors were old and cracked in places. The bed that she was resting upon was hard as stone, no doubt contributing to her aching back. Her entire body, in fact, felt cramped with discomfort, and a terrible throbbing pain was shooting up her right leg. Even a small attempt to move it had caused Rhaenys to wince in agony.

Upon a closer look, she saw that her other leg and her arms had been chained, tied loosely to a support beam. It had enough give to allow her freedom around the room, but anything beyond was out of the realm of possibility. Trying desperately to calm her growing panic, Rhaenys took a few deep breaths to slow her rapid heartbeat.

The last thing she remembered was the meeting with the Northmen and their stubbornness.  _ That Jon Snow.  _ Rhaenys thought with a taste of contempt. The man was unlike any she’d ever dealt with ― unflinching in the face of her dragon, he’d stared her down as if she was atop a horse.

_Eliaxes!_ The thought suddenly hit her. _What happened?_ _How did she end up here?_ One moment they had taken flight towards the Winterfell turrets, and the next thing she knew, everything had gone black. Not a single recollection of what happened.

_She had to find a way out to Eliaxes._ _Her dragon must be lost and scared without its rider, and who knew what those Northern savages would do to it if they captured her child._ The thought only made Rhaenys even more distraught. Eliaxes was more than just her child, it was the only thing that belonged solely to Rhaenys. Not Aegon. Not Dany. Just hers. 

Rhaenys knew one day, Aegon and Dany would leave Rhaenys alone in the world to herself. She would be married off to some unknown lord in some faraway castle, never to be heard of again as Aegon and Dany ruled the Kingdoms in peace. But no matter what they would take from her ― her freedom, her life, her dream ― she knew she would always have her dragon.

But she had to do something now, or they would hurt her child.

With a shot of determination, Rhaenys pulled herself up, trying her best to make as little noise as possible. But one slight tug at her right leg nearly made her scream out in agony; she had to blink away the tears and bite her lip to withstand the pain pulsing up her leg.

“Quit moving so much or you’ll make it worse.” A gruff voice called out suddenly.

This time, Rhaenys couldn’t contain her scream as she let out a shriek in alarm, her body nearly jumping off the bed. She turned to find him sitting in the corner of the room as he slowly stirred a drink in his mug. Just the sight of him made her narrow her eyes in annoyance. The man that had been so stoic during their encounter was now staring at her with an infuriating smirk. Rhaenys would have given nearly anything just to wipe that look off his face.

“How long have you been here, Jon Snow?” Rhaenys gritted out, spitting his name in bitterness.

“Was wondering when you’d finally notice me.” Jon said with a simple shrug. If anything, seeing her frustrations only made his smirk wider. “I’ve been sitting here for some time.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re dressed all in black.” Rhaenys retorted. His dark outfit blended nearly perfectly into the shadows of the room, and the man made less noise than a ghost. “Who dresses like that anyway? You can probably pass off as a Night’s Watch member.”

“Oh like you’re any better.” Jon shot back as he pointed to a black gown discarded to the side. “You Targaryens like the color more than anyone.”

The realization slowly began to dawn on Rhaenys before she let out another gasp in surprise. The cotton tunic she currently wore most definitely belonged to someone else. Feeling a heat crawl up her neck in embarrassment, she quickly wrapped her arms around her chest as if she wore nothing at all. 

“What did you do to me?!?” Rhaenys accused in outrage, trying her best to preserve the last of her modesty. “Is that why you’re here? This is how you Northerners treat your prisoners?”

“Rest Easy.” Jon held his hands up to show he meant no harm. “I didn’t do anything to you. The maids had to change you out of that for the Maester to tend to your leg. Nasty fall you took… knocked you right out the moment your head bounced off the ground. I’m surprised nothing happened to that face of yours, would’ve been a shame. Your leg though… not so much. Maester had to reset the bone and everything.”

“You shot us down with one of those weapons of yours?” Rhaenys questioned with as much force as she could muster, though judging by Jon’s expression, it did little to intimidate him. Of course, it didn’t help that the flush of embarrassment refused to fade from her face.

“No. It was as you said.” Jon revealed. “We weren’t prepared in time. Had you managed an actual attack, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”   


“What then? You’re saying I just fell from my dragon?” Rhaenys scoffed at the notion but only received a nonchalant shrug in response. 

Jon finally stood from his seat before making his way to the bed. Rhaenys sat up straighter warily, but even that small movement sent jolts of pain down her leg.

“Drink.” Jon ordered before he brought the mug before her face.

“Wh-why? What is it?” Rhaenys scooted back cautiously. “For all I know, you could be poisoning me.”

“It’s Milk of the Poppy. For your leg.” Jon answered before thrusting the mug into her hands, forcing Rhaenys to take it. 

“It doesn’t look like it.” Rhaenys examined the scarlet concoction with distrust. 

“It’s mixed with wine so you don’t drink too much of it. Only enough for the pain.” 

“I’m fine! I don’t need your―”

“Just drink it!” Jon exclaimed exasperatedly. “If I wanted you dead, I would’ve already done it by now. Poison would be the last thing I would use; I assure you, you’ll know if I wanted to kill you.”

Hesitantly, Rhaenys brought the mug to her mouth; the scent was sweet like wine, but the color was a much lighter shade. In the end, the pain outweighed her stubbornness, and Rhaenys downed the drink much to her reluctance.

“Why are you here and not the Maester. Shouldn’t he be the one to see to the wounded?”

Jon only met her with silence as he took the empty mug and set it aside on a table. “It took convincing just to get the King to allow the Maester to tend to your wound. He could treat his prisoners as he sees fit. He doesn’t have to make sure you’re happy and well, just that you’re alive. The Maester made sure your wounds have been treated, and they’ll heal with time.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why are  _ you _ here?” Rhaenys questioned.

“No reason.” Jon responded jokingly with a small smirk. “Just thought you might want some company.”

“I don’t have much choice in said company seeing as I am your prisoner.” Rhaenys retorted back. “Is that what you plan to do to me? Torturing me with your brooding presence everyday, I’d rather die now.”

Jon let out a small chuckle at that, his eyes shining with amusement. “You’re not what I expected to be.” He confessed.

“What did you expect?” Rhaenys asked sarcastically, “Some naive princess that just wants to sew and gush about knights and maidens?”

Jon studied her in silence for a bit, his gaze making her slightly shrink in embarrassment. Her light brown skin and dark hair were surely Dornish, but the faint violet shade in her eyes gave her an exotic presence that was undoubtedly Targaryen. Jon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman as beautiful as her. Even being bedridden, she looked every bit as regal as a princess would. Her dark curls were slightly undone from her braids, draping in waves. Her eyes carried a strength, though, that only came from hardship and loss.

On that aspect, Jon felt sympathy for the girl before her. She was hardly even a woman grown, and yet she needed to become who she is now. 

“I’m not sure…” Jon finally answered. “But you’re definitely not like any other lady… in a good way.”

A small blush threatened to creep up Rhaenys’ neck once again, but she forced it down with a serious face. “What’s going to happen now? What do you plan on doing with me?”

“We don’t plan to do anything to you.” Jon promised sincerely. “You’ll be our hostage, and when the time comes, we’ll sue for peace with Aegon. I’m sure he’d be much more open to negotiating then.”

“You don’t know Aegon then.” Rhaenys warned. “If you think he’s some greenboy who’ll surrender his campaign just because of one person, then you better rethink your strategy."

  
“He’d be a fool not to.” Jon insisted. “All we want is to be left alone. It’s not much to ask. If he agrees, we’ll let you and your dragon go safely provided we have his word that there’ll be no acts of aggression against the North during his reign or all reigns to come. Plus, I hear Targaryens are more fond of their sisters than others. I’m sure he’d be willing to listen.”

“Ha!” Rhaenys let out a dry laugh sardonically. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong sister then. Daenerys was always more sibling than aunt anyways, and Aegon loves her more than he would ever with me. I hold as much place in his heart as one of his bannermen, I’m sure. You’d be fortunate to even be able to bargain for one of our hostages in exchange.”

“I think you underestimate your value in your brother’s heart. Even if he holds no affection for you, you’re his family. I can’t imagine he’d leave you to the enemy.”

“I suppose you’re a better man than he is then.” Rhaenys relented with a sigh. “I’ve heard of your tale in the South, Jon Snow. Cersei had been cursing you and the rest of her enemies even in her cells. They tell of how you rode into King’s Landing to rescue your sister. All by yourself, you snuck into the city and managed to cut your way out without losing your life or your sister’s. If it weren’t for seeing you in person, I would’ve mistaken you for a Targaryen myself.”

“Believe it or not, family does matter to some of us.” Jon responded with vigor. “We carry a responsibility to protect our family, not just who we choose to love. I rode to King’s Landing not just because of the care I have for Sansa as my sister, but because of the duty to protect those of my House. I would expect you Targaryens to understand that more than anyone.”

“You’ll never understand Aegon, then.” Rhaenys replied. “You won’t have to. Only a King will understand this burden. There are certain things that go beyond one's duty for their family or even their own love. I wouldn’t expect you to know.”

“And this is the King you choose to follow?” Jon challenged in revulsion. “Someone who turns his back on his own family. And you expect the North to follow a King like that? Why should we trust him to protect our people when he won’t even protect his own kin?”

“Is your own King any different than that?” Rhaenys scorned, her fiery temper lighting up her violet eyes. “Look at me and tell me honorable Robb Stark would do any different than Aegon would. Would your King abandon his entire kingdom if we held one of his sisters hostage? Would he bend the knee then, you think?”

“That’s why you had to do what you did, wasn’t it?” Rhaenys continued, “Robb Stark refused to negotiate with the Lannisters even when they held your sister hostage.”

Jon had no response to Rhaenys and could only stare back in silence. He knew in his heart that she was right. No matter how much he’d begged Robb to trade for Sansa and Arya, he’d refused to do so.

“You’re a good man, Jon Snow.” Rhaenys told him, her eyes no longer accusatory or filled with contempt. “Your sister was fortunate that you were there for her… that she had you as a brother. It’s more than I’ll ever have. It’ll only be a waste of your time to try to use me to get to Aegon.”

  
“We’ll see when the time comes. In the end, it’s up to Robb to decide what we do with you. You have nothing to worry about though. We’re not the Lannisters; you’ll be safe here in Winterfell.”

Rhaenys let out a sigh as her shoulders slumped forward. It was the first time she looked vulnerable in front of Jon, as if she'd accepted her fate.

“Did it have to come to this?” Rhaenys asked. “No matter what happens to me, the only thing that awaits you now is destruction. Aegon will have no mercy when he descends upon the North, you’ll come to regret throwing away our terms so easily.”   
  


“Aye. He may defeat us in the end.” Jon accepted. “One day, eventually, your dragons will grow too large to oppose. But the North will not go down without a fight… not this time. Our ancestors made a mistake hundreds of years ago, and we finally paid the price for bending the knee to a Southern ruler.”

“Aegon is not the Mad King.” Rhaenys implored, begging him to understand with her eyes. “Nor Joffrey for that matter. He may be hard set in his ways, but he’ll be a good King. A just King. He won’t stand for cruelty or slights against any subject under his rule. Not even the common folk. We’re not claiming the Iron Throne just so Aegon can sit upon it. We truly intend to make the realm better than it was.”

“I’m sure that’s what Aegon intends to do, but people change over time. Aerys, your grandfather, had shown great promise when he had first begun his reign, and look how he turned out to be. What do they say again?... That the gods flip a coin every time a Targaryen is born. Even if Aegon remains sane, it’ll only be a matter of time before a second Mad King is born.”

“You know that’s a load of crap!” Rhaenys rejected. “Every child is born innocent until they’re not. People aren’t born mad, but they lose their sanity because of the cruel world around them. You said it yourself, Aerys wasn’t the Mad King when he first sat the Iron Throne. The stillbirths, the uprising, and his torture eventually made his paranoia and cruelty grow out of control. Anyone is capable of becoming the Mad King, not just Targaryens. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Joffrey Waters was barely a man grown, and the people had already begun calling him Aerys the Third. Cersei was no better, and even Lysa Tully had shown signs of madness when we’d taken the Vale. If we don’t change this world, eventually people will be driven mad by the cruelty and injustices in our realm.” 

“The Targaryens are human too.” Rhaenys continued, opening up to Jon. “We’ve made mistakes in the past, and we have flaws, just as you do. But we also have dreams. We’re no different than you are, in that we wish for what’s best for the people and the realm. Is it really so difficult to support a King who wishes to change Westeros in his own lifetime? For the better?”

“Not when you have dragons.” Jon responded simply, not backing down an inch. “As long as you have your dragons, the realm will never be safe. We cannot allow the safety of our people and our lands be dictated by the whims of another. Whether you’re mad or not, you can take all that away with a single command, and there’ll be nothing we could do about it. There will never be peace in Westeros.”

“Oh, and there was peace during Robert’s reign? And when Joffrey took the crown?” Rhaenys asked sarcastically, “There will always be conflict and violence in the hearts of man, and our dragons are the only thing that could deter them from acting out. How do you think the War of the Five Kings would have ended if we hadn’t come on our dragons and ended the bloodshed? The war was threatening to tear the entire continent apart. Millions of innocent people dragged into a conflict that was never theirs to begin with.”

“Who’s to keep your dragons in check then?” Jon asked with a raised eyebrow. “Who controls them when you die? Will they listen to your children? They can be subdued while they’re young now, but who’s to stop them when they grow as large as a castle.”

“What have you done with  _ Eliaxes? _ ” Rhaenys growled as heer tone dropped several degrees. “Where is my dragon?” 

“It’s chained up in a safe place. I promise no harm will come to your beast while you’re here.”

  
“My dragon isn’t just some pet to be locked up. I swear if you’ve done something to my dragon…” Rhaenys let the threat hang ominously. “You’ll regret the day you ever chose to anger me.”

Jon let out a small smirk at Rhaenys’ intense glare. In that moment, she looked every bit the warrior as Visenya from the songs. She was beautiful, and yet carried a strength within her that was unbroken by anything. Jon admired that about her, to still be able to carry such fire in her situation.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Jon said simply with a shrug of his shoulders in response to the threat.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Rhaenys retaliated. “with me chained up here as your prisoner.”

“Is that so?” Jon stood before coming right before the bed, towering over her body. Rhaenys pulled her arms slightly in defense while she tried to subtly scoot away from him.

“What are you doing to me?” Rhaenys asked with a slight tremble, but Jon only grasped her arm in his hand. “Let go!” She struggled, but to no avail. Jon’s grip remained strong around her wrist.

To her surprise, Rhaenys only felt the chain loosen around her limbs before clattering to the ground. Jon moved on to the shackle around her legs, while she could only watch on in silence. Soon all of her restraints were removed, and Jon only stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You think just because I’m a woman that you’d have nothing to be scared of?” Rhaenys challenged. “You’d be terribly underestimating me to think I won’t put up a fight.”

“Aye. I’m sure you could.” Jon said with a sigh of exasperation. “You’d be a fool to try anything against me though. I’m the only one who cares about you right now, so we’re going to take a walk.”

Before Rhaenys could even react, Jon had reached down and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her with ease as if she was a child.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” Rhaenys gasped in surprise. “Let me down at once!”

“You wanted to see your dragon, didn’t you?” Jon asked rhetorically. “Now quit asking so many questions. If you’d rather walk on your own, just say the word and I’ll drop right away. Though I doubt you’ll even make it two steps.”

  
“Fine.” Rhaenys muttered softly as she turned her head to hide her blush. Mindful of her leg, Jon shifted her position slightly before making his way to the door. Rhaenys had to restrain herself from lashing out in embarrassment; seeing her dragon was the priority right now.  _ One day,  _ she promised,  _ she’ll get her revenge on this infuriating man. _

The castle was quiet as they snuck through the hallways, no doubt most of the people asleep by now. It had been terribly easy to sneak past the guards.  _ Were the Northerners this negligent in their security, or did they simply think her incapable of escaping.  _

Soon, they headed outside into the cold Northern night, the wind biting sharply into Rhaenys’ bones. Her thin dress garment did little to protect her from the cold temperatures, but Jon had snuggled her closer to his chest, as if sensing her shivers. 

Not too far away, a dense patch of woods came into view, its thick canopy holding a blanket of snow, protecting the dirt grounds beneath. It was an incredibly large forest, Rhaenys realized as Jon walked through the trees. No other castle was built like this ― to include an entire forest within its walls ― it was easy to see why Winterfell was a formidable structure.

After nearly an acre of land, they came across a small opening in the forest where a weirwood tree laid in solitude, surrounded by nothing but a pool of water that gave off a slight steam in the cold air.

Rhaenys let out a gasp as she noticed her dragon, slumbering peacefully as a large shackle tied her to the thick roots of the tree. 

“ _ Eliaxes _ .” Rhaenys whispered as Jon set her down gently on one of the roots by her dragon. She reached out and stroked his snout affectionately as it vibrated with each breath. A comfortable warmth surrounded the area from the dragon’s body.

“Don’t try anything stupid.” Jon warned in a deep voice. “It won’t end well for you.”

“What did you do to it?” Rhaenys asked concerningly. “My dragon will never obey the commands of another. How did you manage to restrain it.”

“You’re not the only ones with power flowing through your blood.” Jon revealed. “Our magic is strong here in the godswood and before the Heart Tree. Stronger than even your connection to the dragon. If you make the dragon bend to your will, you’ll only cause it to suffer as its mind conflicts with itself. If Aegon can agree to our terms, we’ll release it along with you back to your homes.”

“What type of sorcery is this?” Rhaenys accused with a glare. “You’ve brainwashed my dragon into obeying your commands. And how should I trust you to not harm her. You were saying just a moment ago how dangerous our dragons were. What’s to stop you from killing it?”

“We’ve not brainwashed your dragon.” Jon assured her. “We’re only keeping it sedated for the moment. It’s alive and well. I’ll allow you to visit if you’re so worried about it. And as much as I think your dragons will be a threat in the future, I don’t plan on killing it while it's chained up like this. I know how much it means to you… we have companions of our own, and at times, they feel like extensions of ourselves.”

Rhaenys nearly jumped in fright as she felt the wolf creep up silently from behind. It moved without even a sound, and its white pelt blended in perfectly to the snow.

“That’s my direwolf, Ghost.” Jon pointed out. “He’s not as big as yours, but he’s every bit as ferocious as a dragon.” He gave Ghost an affectionate rub as it ambled up to Jon.

Rhaenys looked back at her dragon with a sense of worry, but she knew Eliaxes was still in there somewhere, the dragon she had raised and loved. Reaching out, Rhaenys felt the bond between dragon and rider was still strong and intact, but Eliaxes was simply unresponsive as if she was just sleeping peacefully. 

“How did you manage to capture her in the first place?” Rhaenys questioned. “I know  _ Eliaxes _ . She’s the least temperamental out of her brethren, unlike me, but she’s fiercely loyal. She would have protected me no matter what, so how did you subdue my dragon?”

“We all have our secrets,  _ Princess. _ ” Jon said cryptically. “As much as I’d like for us to get to know one another, there’s some things we all keep to ourselves. You’ll find out soon enough, I suppose, but it’s time we head back to your chambers. King Robb would not be happy if he found out, and I would hate to see you punished with a stricter guard.”

And with that, he picked Rhaenys back up before wrapping his thick cloak around her. 

A strange feeling began to settle within Rhaenys that she couldn’t put her finger on. The worry for Eliaxes and the fear of what’s to come was putting her ill at ease. And this  _ Jon Snow _ made her more conflicted than she’s ever felt. Releasing a sigh, Rhaenys closed her eyes in frustration.

She would have much to think about tonight.


	9. Execution

**King’s Landing**

As he stood before the Sept of Baelor, Aegon couldn’t help but wonder if this was the sense of justice that he’d always sought as a child. _Tywin Lannister_. The name was forever etched into his mind by his caretakers, his Kingsguards, his sister. Not only was he a traitor, but he’d nearly wiped out their entire house. The man who was responsible behind the rape and death of his mother. He’d imagined punishing the Old Lion thousands of times before he’d even step foot in Westeros, and now Tywin even gave him a chance to take his life.

By all means, Aegon should feel a sense of joy and victory in his heart, but all he felt was an impatience that gnawed at his being, only urging him to get on with it. He knew he would only feel complete once the Seven Kingdoms were all brought to heel, and Tywin Lannister was only one of many resistors. His most infuriating one remained unchecked, openly rebelling in the North. 

With that occupying his mind, this farce now almost seemed a distraction in his path, delaying him from his ultimate goal. But Aegon knew that Tywin’s execution was almost as important as their conquest. If the other lords believe they can show such defiance without consequences, his rule would never be safe. He’d shown enough mercy with the other lords of Westeros, now the dragon needed to bare its fangs. 

Aegon could just faintly hear Joffrey’s cries over the cheers from the large crowd gathered below. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming from his cell, and even now forced to his knee before the chopping block, he was begging for mercy and struggling to no avail. His was a stark difference from the stoic indifference of Tywin Lannister, who managed to remain calm and prideful to his last day. 

Today was the day where Tywin Lannister and Joffrey Waters would be executed before the people of King’s Landing. A public display, which drew the crowds of thousands. The Mountain, though, was another matter altogether; they would deal with Clegane their own way, out of the public eye.

Walking before them, Aegon spared them one last glance down upon them on their knees. “Tywin Lannister, do you have any last words?”

He was only met with silence as Tywin stared straight ahead, refusing him the satisfaction of seeing his enemies defeated.

“Burn in hell!” Joffrey yelled from his side, tears and snot flowing down his face, finally giving up his useless pleas. 

With a small emotionless nod, the executioner’s blade fell swiftly and silently, and their heads rolled on the ground. 

Over the ecstatic cheers from the crowd, Aegon stalked off quietly without another word.

* * *

**Winterfell**

“Are you sure this is a wise decision, Robb?” Catelyn asked worriedly. Ever since the dragon had appeared above Winterfell, a terrible sense of dread had begun settling within her, and now Robb wanted to bring his men _to the enemy_? “After all the preparations we made to fortify Winterfell, you’d be throwing it all away if you decide to leave your castle.”

Catelyn was begging Robb with her eyes to listen to her pleas, but she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. Nothing good comes upon her family when they venture south; she’s learned that by now. They’d finally retreated safely back home, and now he wanted to ride out once more? But Robb was stubborn to a fault, and like his father, once his mind was made on something, nothing in the world was capable of stopping them. 

“Aye. That was our plan, but things have changed.” Robb answered he finished strapping his equipment to his horse. A large force of his cavalry were gathered before the gates of Winterfell as they prepared to ride South. Along with their men travelled a caravan carrying supplies and catapults in carts. With haste, they would be able to make it to the Neck in time to meet the Targaryen army in the field. 

“We hold an advantage right now, and I’d be a fool to not press our enemies.” Robb continued. “We squandered our advantage against the Lannisters with the Kingslayer as our prisoner, but I’ll not make the same mistake here. The plan was to make our final stand at Winterfell because that was our only chance. With Rhaenys in our control now, we have much more options. We can negotiate for peace, and at worse, we can use her as leverage if it does come down to battle. And we still have some tricks up our sleeves.”

Robb glanced at the rest of his men, who were preparing the carts that would carry the catapults. It had been a few days since Rhaenys’ capture, and Robb had shifted his entire plan around that. While the mounted catapults on Winterfell were continuing to be built, the mobile weapons had been completed first, allowing them to travel South and use them in battle.

Even with the speed they would have to travel carting along the catapults, they should reach Moat Cailin in just a few days, giving them more than enough time to prepare a counterattack against the Targaryen forces. From Lord Howland Reed’s report, the enemy host would no doubt reach the Neck before them, but the swamps at Greywater Watch should stall them more than enough time until they reach Moat Cailin.

“Do you have to go yourself?” Catelyn asked with one final plea. “We need you here in Winterfell. The North can’t afford to lose its King. I can’t afford to lose―”

“You know it has to be me, mother.” Robb answered resolutely. “Aegon will be leading his army, I’ll have to do the same. Should we fail, I’ve left more than enough men to man Winterfell and its defenses. The last stand will still be made here as we originally planned. But pray that it won’t have to come to that.”

Catelyn gave one final nod before Robb rode off, barking orders to his men. The line of men stretched far along the Kingsroad, more than 10,000 men called to arms within the last few days. Lord Manderly would send an additional 5,000 men as well to join their host at Moat Cailin, but Catelyn still couldn’t help but feel uneasy at watching her son ride off to battle against dragons. She knew that if their plan failed, no amount of men would matter to fire raining down from the sky. They would be sitting ducks in an open field.

Looking behind her, Catelyn saw that she wasn’t the only one who feared for their journey South. Sansa had been nearly inconsolable when Robb announced their plans, and even more so when he mentioned Jon would be riding with him. It had been the only time she witnessed Sansa act a child once again, as she screamed and begged for Robb to change his mind. But alas, none of her pleas were to any avail, and now she stood giving farewell to her brother.

“Why do you have to go?” Sansa asked, her face buried into Jon’s cloak as she wrapped her arms tightly around him as if to keep him from leaving. 

“You know why, Sansa.” Jon consoled gently. “Robb needs me by his side. If we want this to succeed, he’ll need all the help he can get. I promise we’ll do our best to stay safe, but it is battle. There’s always a chance that―”

  
“Please…” Sansa pulled back refusing to hear the words. She looked up at Jon, the tears welling in her eyes as she pleaded with him. “Promise you’ll return home safely, that you won’t leave me alone again.”

“Aye.” Jon promised as he pressed a kiss to her forehead as father had often done. “Look after the people here. We’re leaving Winterfell in your hands, and Lady Catelyn’s. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Giving a small nod, Sansa wiped the tears from her eyes as Jon moved on to Arya by her side.

Jumping into his arms, Arya held Jon in a fierce embrace as they bid their farewells, as Jon held her small frame up off the ground.

“Protect your sister.” Jon whispered in her ear. “If we don’t make it back…”

Arya didn’t say anything, but she nodded in understanding. “The pack survives.”

“Aye.” Jon said with a small smile as he pointed to the thin blade strapped by her side. “You’ve learned how to use that?” 

“Stick em with the pointy end.”

Catelyn only watched the display with a tinge of guilt. She couldn’t help but imagine how everything would be different if she’d just been a mother to the poor boy. Seeing how protective he was of their family, her fears of his ambitions only pushed him away from his own siblings. Perhaps he could’ve prevented their suffering had he been allowed to travel to King’s Landing. Perhaps everything would be different. 

Shaking her head with a small sigh, Catelyn could only let go of the thought. What’s in the past is in the past. There was no point in dwelling on it, but she would not make the same mistakes once again. She watched on as Jon gave one last ruffle of her hair, before he rode off as well, disappearing into the sea of men ready to march south once again. 

* * *

Jon rode through the caravans, inspecting the cargo loads one last time before they set off. The catapults were fully constructed, but the arms were disassembled for the fastest travel. Checking to make sure each weapon was tied securely to their carts, Jon confirmed that they had everything they needed. The ammo crates and these catapults would take the bulk of their time to transport, but if they switch shifts and march the caravan through the night while the army set up camp, they may be able to keep a swift pace and reach the Neck in less than five days. 

Plus, Jon was more than confident that it would take far longer for the Targaryens to cross the bogs. The problem would come when they would have to face Aegon.

_What if he truly refuses to negotiate? The catapults were their only plan, but they’ve never been tested in battle._ The few attempts at firing at Winterfell had worked, but Jon knew it would be far different to hit dragons flying in the air. 

Jon could only hope for the best as he spared one last glance back at Winterfell. This was his home, and he’d do everything to keep his enemies from stepping even one foot into this land. He began riding to the front of the line before he heard a commotion from the caravans.

“What’s going on here?” Jon yelled out as he rode towards the noise. The men parted before him as he came upon a familiar Targaryen princess tied in the back of a cart. Her angry glare threatened to pierce anyone who came close to her as she continued to struggle within her bindings.

“Apologies, milord. We’ll make sure the prisoner causes no more trouble.” One of the men answered before he turned towards Rhaenys. “Gag her. We wouldn’t want her hollering the whole march down.”

“I’m not some damn slave.” Rhaenys growled as she shot a glare at Jon. “Tell your stupid men to untie me from this cart.”

“Aye as if we’ll listen to you.” The soldier scoffed. “Shut yer mouth, you dragon bitch. You don’t get a say in this.”

“She’ll come with me.” Jon interrupted before the man could reach Rhaenys. “It’ll be less trouble for you folks to just watch over the caravan. I’ll take the prisoner.”

“B-but milord, King Robb gave us orders to guard the prisoner.” The man stuttered nervously. “We wouldn’t want to cause you no trouble, but if he finds out we―”

“I’ll inform the King.” Jon answered resolutely. “Just watch over the carts. If any of the catapults are damaged, King Robb will have your head for this.”

“Y-yes milord.” The man said in a bow. “Everything will be in order.”

“Good. See to it that it is.” And with that, Jon reached forward and swooped Rhaenys up with one hand, eliciting a sharp gasp from the princess.

Before she could even shoot off any complaints, Jon rode off as he placed Rhaenys across his horse as a sack of grain.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Rhaenys asked in outrage before she finally regained her bearings, her body bouncing as the horse galloped down the Kingsroad.

“Look, princess. You’re either riding with me, or you’re going back in the caravan.” Jon offered. “We don’t have some damn carriage for you to ride in.”

“I don’t need a carriage, you idiot.” Rhaenys shot back, her familiarity with Jon loosening her tongue where she otherwise wouldn’t have. “I can ride fine on my own, you know I’m not just some princess that needs everyone’s help.”

“Aye, and how would you do that?” Jon asked skeptically as he gave a small nudge to her leg, causing Rhaenys to wince in pain. The injury had healed for the most part, but it still brought tremendous pain if anything came in contact. “You’d fall off your horse the moment it moved. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be stuck with me the rest of the way.”

“Untie me then.” Rhaenys glared up from her position lain across the horse. “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

  
“Fine, but the moment you try something, I’m throwing you back in the cart.” Jon warned. “Don’t make me regret this.”

With a few quick cuts, the ropes fell around her limbs as Jon urged his horse to a stop. Picking up Rhaenys by the waist, he hoisted her onto the saddle, seating her in front of him and pressed firmly into his body.

A furious blush quickly crept up Rhaenys’ neck as she realized the position they were in, but she stayed silent as she saw no other alternative. 

“I bet you’re enjoying this aren’t you, Snow?” Rhaenys challenged as Jon let out a small laugh. “A princess sitting in your lap and― _EEP!”_

Rhaenys nearly let out a shriek as she felt Jon’s arm wrap around her waist to hold her in place. The blush on her face darkening by the second as Jon smirked at her embarrassment. The princess acted tough and thorny on the outside, but she was really just a maiden girl who jumped at any intimate touch. 

Holding her before him, Jon felt a weird sensation settling within his stomach. The fiery, yet mysterious princess intrigued him more than anything. Her strong built still felt petite next to his body as he wrapped around her, the wind blowing her curls across his face.

For a few moments then, Jon let his mind wander. Not about the war, or the battles ahead. But of a girl that he knew was nothing more than an impossible dream.


	10. Encampment

**King’s Landing**

No matter how hard Aegon tried to calm his nerves, this sense of foreboding refused to fade away, leaving his body fidgeting in a nervous manner. This feeling had begun ever since they’d returned to King’s Landing and parted with his sister. They’d yet to hear from her, but she’d no doubt have retreated by now and met up with uncle Oberyn’s host. Aegon had little doubt of Rhaenys’ capabilities, but sending her alone had still made him stir in worry. 

The fact that their dragons had been restless as well did little to calm Aegon’s nerves, yearning to reunite with their sibling.  _ The Three Heads of the Dragon.  _ They needed to stick together now more than ever. For every enemy they got rid of, two more rose in their stead, only now they were unknown ― threats hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike at the best opportunity. 

Beheading Tywin had removed a huge thorn in his side. Even imprisoned, the Old Lion was as dangerous as any man in Westeros. But Aegon would be a fool to dismiss the Westerlands now that Tywin was gone. They would have to keep a close eye on the Lannisters, or else they’d have another rebellion on their hands.

Being a King, it seemed, was one headache after the next. Houses plotting to undermine their power... marriage proposals not only for him but for Rhaenys and Daenerys as well… some minor lords simpering for a seat on the council… Aegon had more important things to worry about, and he needed to shift his attention North.

His ancestors had underestimated Dorne, and Aegon didn’t plan on doing the same to the North. He knew it was far from an easy victory, and they would have to fly North as soon as possible. They had been delayed for far too long by this whole ordeal with Tywin Lannister.

Not to mention what was to be done with Gregor Clegane. 

He was tempted to behead the Mountain all the same, but Aegon knew Dorne would not be pleased with such a quick death. Gregor Clegane would have to be kept alive for now. Not just for his Uncle Oberyn, but for Rhaenys as well. Aegon knew this was a personal matter for his sister, one that went beyond just vengeance for their house. She had to be the one to see it through, or she’d never hold peace within her heart.

But seeing as the way things are now, she’d have to wait until the war was over. And who knew how long this war against the North would last. Winterfell is unlike the Eyrie or even Riverrun. The castle walls would be extremely fortified against dragonfire. Aegon had already seen the futility of that at the siege of Riverrun. His dragons were capable of taking out defenses and soldiers manning the walls, but against the thick stone walls, they’d barely made a dent.

Taking Winterfell would take the combined efforts of their dragons and the sieging army, but the North has had plenty of time to prepare and be well supplied and defended. Aegon knew it wouldn’t be as simple as the previous battles. Just reaching Winterfell may take an entire moon depending on how difficult it is to march through the Neck. And even then, there is no guarantee that the North surrenders if Winterfell falls. The kingdom is extremely vast, and should the Northern bannerman continue to resist, it would be nearly impossible to conquer the North in its entirety. 

_ Tomorrow _ . Aegon looked ahead with anticipation. Him and Dany would have to fly North immediately to meet up with Rhaenys and push North with their entire army. It was a huge risk to advance so far ahead of their supply trains, if winter comes before they take Winterfell, they may be forced to retreat, or even worse, be trapped in the frozen wastelands. But Aegon knew it was a gamble he had to take. Waiting any longer would only prolong the problem. It was a race against time, and Aegon could only hope that their dragons are enough to turn the tide.

“Egg?” Dany asked as she pushed herself up sleepily off her bed, the sheets clung loosely to her bare chest. “Come back to bed, love. We’ll have an early morning tomorrow.”

Aegon smiled softly as he sat down by Dany’s bedside, grasping her hand within his own.  _ One day, when this is all dealt with and him properly crowned, they would finally be wed as true husband and wife. King and Queen. _ It was hard to remember a time where that hadn’t been his dream, but there were times when he’d wish he could just run away, to some faraway place where no one will find them. Some place in Essos, or maybe further south, where him and Dany could live simple, peaceful lives. 

When he closes his eyes, Aegon could still see the dreams ― visions of silver haired children running around carefree, and him and Dany making their own small family. But that dream was fading away the more Aegon has learned to accept the truth. From the moment he was born into his world, that future was taken from him. 

Targaryens would never be truly safe in this world. No matter how far they would run away to, how discrete a location, someone would eventually find them. Some people want them on the throne to gain influence and power, others want them gone in fear of their dragons. No one would ever leave them alone, and Aegon has come to accept that. Either they’d spend the rest of their lives running in fear, or they could take control of their destiny and wield it in their own hands.

Aegon chose to be a dragon, and made it his duty to rule over Westeros. He wouldn’t be some puppet controlled by someone else behind the scenes, nor would he be a cruel tyrant who oppressed the people. He’d sworn to rule justly, to be a good King. Even the most stubborn of enemies, he would show them that he’s nothing like the Mad King. 

But no matter how dutiful or noble he convinced himself to be, there were always moments where Aegon would falter in his determination. Moments where he wondered if this was all worth it to begin with. 

_ What was he truly doing here? Would there really be peace once he’s conquered the Seven Kingdoms? What would happen generations down the line, when the dragons eventually die out, or the coin lands on the wrong side for a Targaryen? What then? _

These questions echoed within Aegon’s head, as if they were whispers from the ghosts of his ancestors. It would nearly drive Aegon mad, but the only thing tethering him to reality was the person before him now. One look at Daenerys, and Aegon knew. 

The choice they made couldn’t have been wrong. Seeing her safe by his side, and reclaiming their home had to have been the right choice. If nothing else, Aegon had to be convinced by that. 

“What’s the matter, love?” Dany asked sweetly as she caressed his cheek, her violet eyes staring into his soul with a soft frown upon her brows. 

“Nothing to worry about, Dany. Just thinking about what’s ahead.” Aegon murmured before pressing a soft kiss to her lips in reassurance.

“Are you worried about Rhae?” Dany asked softly. No matter how cold Aegon seemed to treat Rhaenys at times, or how heated their arguments can become, Dany knew at his heart, Aegon still loved his sister. Even as he looked down in silence now, Dany could see the worry in his eyes, and the small guilt of sending her to do such a pointless task.

“She would be fine.” Dany reassured. “Rhae’s a strong warrior. She’ll more likely be mad at us for taking so long.”

Aegon let out a small smile as he imagined his sister’s irate temper, which could only be matched by her impatience. It would get on Aegon’s nerves more often than he’d like to admit, but that was what made Rhaenys his sister. She didn’t take crap from anyone and probably had more guts than both of them combined. 

“What do you think will happen?” Dany asked. “With the North, I mean. Sure they won’t surrender the moment we march our armies to their gates.”   
  


“No. They won’t.” Aegon agreed with a sigh. “Getting to their gates could be a problem as well. The Neck is difficult to march through, but they won’t be able to ambush us if we’re flying above on our dragons. All they can do is hold Moat Cailin and make us take it by force. It’ll slow us down tremendously, but it won’t be impossible. The fort itself is in near ruins, it’s only importance is its defensible position, and the chokehold it has on the Neck.”

“And then we march to Winterfell?”

“Yes. Hopefully still with enough men to win a battle at Winterfell. Our men alone should outnumber them nearly two to one, but they know their lands better and men tend to fight harder when defending their homes from invaders. It’ll be anything but an easy victory.”

“Even with our dragons?” Dany asked dubiously.

“It’s hard to say. We know what our dragons are capable of, but they’re not invincible. We’d never had to use them in real battle, especially one that could take days.”

A sharp knock suddenly drew their attention to the door. 

“ _ What is it?!? _ ” Aegon barked out in annoyance at the intruder. It was hours before the sun would even rise, what could possibly be so important?

“It’s Lord Varys, your grace.” A Kingsguard answered from the other side. “Says he has urgent news.”

  
Aegon sighed tiredly before he and Dany dressed themselves to look presentable. 

“Send him in!” he relented.

The frown on the Spider’s face had already sent alarm bells ringing in Aegon’s head. Seeing the Master of Whisperers at this hour could only mean dire news, but he forced himself to calm down. Things rarely go as planned in war, Aegon’s learned, even if you have dragons. Whatever setback was, they’d simply have to deal with it. There was no other choice at this point.

Varys swallowed nervously before he met Aegon’s eyes. 

“There’s been a raven from Prince Oberyn, your grace.” The bald man began in an uncharacteristic hesitance as he handed over a small parchment. “He fears something may have gone amiss at Winterfell; the Princess Rhaenys has yet to return, and the marching army has seen no sight of her nor her dragon. Your Grace.”

Aegon met Dany’s eyes in alarm before they skimmed through the message, saying much of the same. The writing was his uncles without a doubt, and they had little reason to doubt Varys. This piece of news was as if all of Aegon’s worries were coming true. His sister was alone, by herself, hundreds of miles away in enemy territory. She could be gone for all they knew, and to think that he’d sent her North to offer one last display of mercy…

“What else, Varys?” Aegon questioned forcefully. “Have you heard nothing from your spies in the North?”

“Of course, your grace.” Varys dipped his head in a small bow. “My little birds are everywhere, but the North… has been difficult your grace.”

“Over the years they’ve isolated themselves from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.” Varys added quickly at Aegon’s scathing glare. “The Northmen are fiercely loyal to the Starks, and they distrust outsiders with a passion. I’m afraid they’ve done well keeping to themselves. The only whispers that have been brought to my ears are that Robb Stark has gathered the common folk around Winterfell within the keep. Every man, woman, and child. He prepares to bunker in Winterfell and await your grace.”

“So we’re headed off to an enemy to which we know nothing about, outside of what everyone else already knows.” Aegon gritted out of his teeth. “Then tell me, Varys. What use do I have for a Master of Whisperers that knows as much as I do on the affairs of the kingdom?”

“Your grace, I assure you I’ve worked diligently in the interest of the crown.” Varys continued as he bore the full weight of Aegon’s fury. “I’ve sworn to serve House Targaryen, and I’ve been a loyal servant ever since. If you allow me some time―”

“ _ Some time?!? _ ” Aegon asked in outrage, the fire in his blood on full display. “My sister could be captured or dead for all we know. We have no idea what our enemies are doing, they could be preparing a counter attack at this very moment, and you’re asking me for  _ some time?!? _ ”

“Egg.” Dany called out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s not as bad as we think. Rhaenys is smart, and Eliaxes will never allow anything to happen to her rider. Perhaps Rhaenys was just caught up in another matter.”

The look on Dany’s face told Aegon she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. Her hand on his shoulder was shaking slightly despite her appearance, and Aegon could tell the news rattled her as well.

“Have you any idea how they could’ve accomplished this?” Aegon turned to Varys, daring him to say anything otherwise. “Think well before you speak, Varys. Or I’ll be reconsidering your usefulness.”

“There have been whispers, your grace. But I’m afraid they’re nothing more than baseless rumors and drunken tales.” Varys responded hesitantly.

“What is it?” Aegon asked, his patience wearing thin, “Anything is better than what we know now.”

“Back in the War of the Five Kings, there’d been stories that the Starks could change into the skins of animals and control their bodies through their will.” Varys began tentatively. “But like most stories, they were likely exaggerated, and carry more lies than truths.”

“I remember.” Aegon recalled. “They said Robb Stark rode into battle on the back of a direwolf, and ate his enemies afterwards. Flesh and bone.”

“Not Robb Stark, your grace. But rather his brother, Jon Snow. They say that when Sansa Stark was rescued from King’s Landing before your grace had taken the city, it was Jon Snow who came to rescue her alone. One man being able to sneak into the capital, and rescue a hostage from the Red Keep, many refused to believe it possible. But the rumor has it that a kitchen maid had witnessed a huge white direwolf sneak into the castle and kill the guards with less than a whisper of a sound. Before anyone could ring the bells, Sansa Stark had been long gone from King’s Landing.”

“ _ Snow? _ ” Dany asked intriguingly. 

“Yes, your grace.” Varys answered dutifully. “He’s Robb Stark’s bastard brother, the baseborn son of Lord Eddard Stark. They say each of the Stark children has a direwolf, and Jon Snow’s happens to be snow white. They say he’s just as vicious on the battlefield as his brother, and serves him as a loyal advisor.”   
  
“How come we’ve never heard of this man.” Aegon questioned in confusion.

“Few in the South know of his existence, your grace.” Varys explained. “The fact that Lord Eddard Stark had a bastard son is known throughout Westeros, but little has been said of the man himself. Last they heard, he was headed to the wall to join the Night’s Watch before they beheaded his father here in King’s Landing.”   
  
“We must be wary of this man then.” Aegon decided. “No matter how much of that tale was truth, we’ll have to proceed cautiously. I’ll fly North alone tomorrow to figure out what’s happened with our sister, and meet up with uncle Oberyn. They should be camped around the Neck by now, and I’ll look forward to meeting this  _ Jon Snow _ .”

“Alone?” Dany asked in confusion. “But I thought we were―”

“No we have to change our plans.” Aegon refuted. “If what we’ve learned is true, the war will last much longer than expected. Our supplies will run out before we can overpower the Starks, and by then they’d have us surrounded. I need you to fly to Driftmark and have Lord Velaryon gather the Royal Fleet. War galleys, supply ships, we’ll need everything we can get as soon as possible. I need Lord Velaryon to be ready to sail within a fortnight. He needs to sail up the Narrow Sea, and meet us beyond the Neck. I expect we’ll meet much resistance there.”

“Varys, inform the Hand that we’ve already departed. I’ll leave the affairs to the Small Council whilst I’m gone. I expect everything to be in order when I return.” 

With that last command, the Spider bowed before leaving the room as quietly as he came.

“Egg?” Dany looked towards him with a small tremble in her voice. Dawn had yet to break, but it seems they had to move ahead of schedule.

“We don’t have much time, Dany.” Aegon said as he finished fully dressing. “Any second we waste is an advantage for our enemy. Once you’ve relayed the message to Lord Velaryon, I need you to stay with the fleet, and escort their journey North. Most of the Kingdoms have come to heel, but the Krakens still remain lurking in the waters. You’ll have to watch for them out in the open seas.”

“Aegon, are you sure this is for the best?” Dany questioned. “Splitting up once again? I can’t lose you too. If what Varys said is true―”   
  


“It’s all the more reason to do so.” Aegon convinced her resolutely. “We can’t risk both of us flying straight into the wolf’s den together. I can’t risk losing you as well. If something goes awry…”

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” Dany cut him off stubbornly. “Swear that you won’t do anything rash or reckless.”

Aegon nodded before he moved to Dany once more and kissed her softly. “I promise.” He whispered against her lips.

And with that, Aegon stalked off to find Rhaegal for a long journey North.

* * *

**Barrowlands**

“Tell the men we’ll set up camp here!” Robb Stark barked an order to Jory before slowing his horse to a halt. They’d been riding nonstop nearly all day, racing South as fast as they could push before night began to approach. Winter has yet to come, but with the snows already falling, the days have become shorter and the nights colder. They would need to set up their camp quickly to escape the freezing temperatures soon.

Marching at double speeds, they covered more than half of the distance already. Hopefully, Moat Cailin will be within sight tomorrow, and they’d have arrived before the Targaryen host could spot them. It was a wonder at how fast Robb was able to push such a large host, consisting of at least 10,000 men. But luckily, most had been veterans who marched South with Robb the first time, and were experienced with such journeys.

Within just an hour, thousands of tents were set up around the wide, hilly plains, the terrain offering them a perfect shelter. Robb marveled at the efficiency of his own soldiers, working in silence as they went about their business. Gone was the rowdy camp that threatened to have fights break out every second. He’d been at his wits end in his first campaign South when he could hardly deal with his own men, but now everything was different. 

His men respected him, and obeyed his orders without question. They understood the severity of their situation, the seriousness capable of turning even the most wild Northman discipline. 

_ It was armies like these that won wars _ , Robb believed wholeheartedly. He had been fortunate to win as many battles as he had against the Lannisters when his army had been purely fueled by anger and savagery, but he knew he was losing the war in the long run.

_ This was different.  _ Robb thought as he studied the map unfurled atop his table. The strategies were all laid out before him, but Robb could only hope that at least half of them goes according to plan. 

He had received correspondence from Lord Reed earlier tonight, his scouts having spotted a large host of Dornishmen and Reachmen marching past the Twins. The numbers were worrying, but they had the element of surprise on their side, and Robb knew that counted far more than numbers. The true concern had been the lack of mentioning of the dragons in the report. The two greatest threats the enemy had were not accounted for, and that was putting the North at a huge disadvantage. 

Should the initial negotiations with the Targaryen King fail, they were relying on the mobile catapults that they brought to be effective against their dragons. Or at least enough of a distraction while they overwhelmed their army. The plan had been to scatter the weapons among the ruins of Moat Cailin and atop small islands within the swamps. It offered the best protection for their catapults while also casting them far apart one another to cover a large area. Hopefully, they’d be well enough concealed to be a surprise tactic should the negotiations go awry.

Their entire plan hinged on so many aspects that could go wrong, things that could be completely out of their control. Robb knew this was a risky gambit, but if there was any chance at all, no matter how slim, he needed to keep the enemies away from his home.

“Jory!” He called out, and the Captain of his guards entered his tent with a quick bow.

“In a few hours, send the second rotation of men to the caravans to march through the night.” Robb ordered. “They’ll need to catch up to us before dawn tomorrow, or they’ll never reach Moat Cailin in time.”   
  
“Yes, your grace.” Jory responded dutifully. “Anything else, your grace?”

With a shake of his head, Robb quickly dismissed him. “Make sure to get some rest yourself, Jory. There’s a long battle ahead of us.”

A quick final nod, and the man headed off to his duties, leaving Robb once again to his own thoughts.

* * *

“Here. Eat.” Jon said as he thrust a wooden bowl in her face. As much as she wanted to refuse anything from him, Rhaenys couldn’t help her stomach from growling in hunger before she finally accepted the bowl. She nearly let out a sigh in comfort as the warm steam washed over her face which felt frozen in the biting winds. Even inside the tent, the shelter did little to protect them from the cold.

Fixing the scowl back upon her face, “What is this?” Rhaenys asked with a look of disgust as she stirred around the contents of the bowl unenthusiastically.

“Rabbit stew.” Jon answered simply before shoveling down spoonfuls into his mouth. “It’s the only decent meal you’ll get. It’s either this, or the dry grain the rest of the soldiers are eating.”

Reluctantly, Rhaenys brought a spoonful to her lips before she tasted the plain looking stew. To her surprise, it was more decent than she’d expected. When Jon had said he was going out hunting, she’d expected pieces of burnt meat and bones to be her dinner. Though it was unpleasant to have to share a tent with this infuriating man, she had to admit he made a good stew.

Wolfing down her food as fast as she could without seeming desperate, Rhaenys finished the stew in a matter of minutes before setting aside her empty bowl with a comfortable warmth welling within her. It did little to satisfy her hunger, but it was better than nothing.

“You’re welcome.” Jon suggested with a teasing smile, but Rhaenys only turned away with a lift of her chin, refusing the do as the man says.

“Never took you for a man who knew how to cook.” Rhaenys said challengingly, “Thought you knew nothing but fighting and swinging swords.”

“I never did.” Jon admitted. “But it was to learn or eat the dog shit that they had at the Wall. I swear even prisoners in King’s Landing were better fed.”

“The Wall?” Rhaenys asked with a small rise of her eyebrow.

“Aye. I was to join the Night’s Watch when my father left Winterfell for King’s Landing. And I nearly did too, until… until Robb needed me by his side.”

“The Night’s Watch?” Rhaenys asked in confusion. “Why? It’s a place where they send thieves and rapists, why would you want to go there?”

“I didn’t know at the time.” Jon revealed. “I’d thought it was an honorable thing, hearing my uncle serving as First Ranger. It was the only path for a bastard with no future, and I believed I could become something there. Something more than just the bastard son of a great lord.”

  
“Couldn’t have been that great if he allowed you to join the Night’s Watch.” Rhaenys scoffed. “If he had any sense in him, he’d have taken you with him.”

  
“Don’t talk about my father as if you knew him.” Jon warned in a dangerous tone. “He was the best man I ever knew. He wasn’t given much of a choice. His wife, the Lady Catelyn was…”

Rhaenys smartly remained silent as she watched the internal struggle within the man before her. He’d seemed so tough and composed all the time, but Rhaenys could see deep in his eyes were the fears and insecurities of a boy who grew up without the love of a mother. Her heart reached out for him involuntarily then, two lonely, motherless children feeling compassion for one another.

“You’re the same as us.” Rhaenys said, her voice barely a whisper. “You might see us as some heartless conquerors who want nothing but to rule the Seven Kingdoms, but you’re no different than I. From the moment we were born, people judged us for the sins of our fathers, for things we had no control over. The only thing we can do is to try to make a place for ourselves in this world, and hopefully in doing so, make this a better place than it was for us.”

“Aye. Perhaps you’re right.” Jon said sympathetically. “In some other world... we may not have ended on opposite sides of the battlefield. We may have even been allies… friends even. But this world cares not for the desires of its people. We’re dealt the cards that we have, and we learn to live with it.”   
  
“But do we really have to?” Rhaenys questioned, her eyes softening as she tried to connect with the compassion within Jon Snow. “We can end this war here and now. Aegon is not an unreasonable man. If the North bends the knee, I’ll convince him to seek no retributions. I promise, Jon, the North won’t receive the same treatment as they had for hundreds of years. We’ll change the way things are―”

“That’s not for me to decide.” Jon finished, ending the conversation. “And it’s not for you to decide either. It’d be best for you to get some rest, princess. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

And with that, Jon laid down on his side of the tent, wrapping his furs around him as he turned his back to her. The stubbornness of the man irked Rhaenys to no end, but she knew there was no point in arguing with him. She was in a precarious situation, and her fate was in his hands for now.

A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to fight back, whispering how easy it’d be to escape right now. Her leg was healed for the most part, and if she could just…

The sight of his sword caught Rhaenys’ eyes as it lay discarded by the side of the tent, the wolf pommel staring intimidatingly into her eyes. 

_ It would be so easy… one simple strike, he would never suspect her… _

But for some reason, Rhaenys could never bring herself to do so. Not just her fear, or her doubts at her capability to escape, but something else… a warm feeling within heer gut that rendered her incapable of hurting this man before her.

It was a feeling that confused Rhaenys to no end.  _ Jon Snow. _ a complete stranger just days prior, and now she felt as if they’d known each other for far longer. For all Rhaenys knew, she should hate this man as she did all her enemies, but that emotion failed to take root in her heart no matter how much she tried to convince herself. 

_ Her feelings for Jon Snow were anything but hate. _

With a small sigh, Rhaenys followed his example, and laid down on the opposite side of the tent.  _ There was no point in trying to escape; she’d be lost the moment she stepped foot outside of camp. _ And there was some small part in her that refused to betray the trust between them, what little of it they managed to build.

As she drifted off to sleep, she let her thoughts wander… to those worlds where they weren’t enemies. Perhaps things would be much different then. Much better than now.

Those thoughts worked to calm her anxiety at what’s to come. For one night, she could forget about all the wars and conflicts and just imagine what it could’ve been like. 

As her breathing evened and eventually fell into a soft snore, Jon allowed his body to relax into his furs as well, and he closed his eyes with a small smile upon his lips.


	11. Silence

**Barrowland (In the North)**

Rhaenys groaned softly as she slowly began to stir from her sleep. Daylight had yet to break, and yet she could already hear the busy commotion from outside. It was far too early for her mind to wake, but the biting cold of the North would likely keep her from finding comfort once again. 

Rhaenys cursed as she felt another gust of wind wash over her as if being dunked by a cold bucket of water. She struggled to find any warmth until she reached out and grasped a handful of soft furs. Groggily, Rhaenys scooted her body over so that she was cuddled beside this new body of heat, her arm draping across the soft furs that raised with each breath. Rhaenys let out a small sigh as the comfortable warmth spread throughout her all the way to her toes. For just a moment, she could imagine that she was beneath the warm suns, and not here in the North freezing her arse off.

_ Wait… _ Rhaenys froze with the sudden realization of where she was, and more specifically, who she was holding onto. With a quickness that surprised even herself in her half-asleep state, Rhaenys jumped back as silently as she could, praying to all the gods that Jon hadn’t seen her just try to snuggle into his body. 

Biting down an embarrassed outcry, Rhaenys looked for the hopefully still asleep man, only to find a pair of red orbs staring back into hers, unblinkingly. The eyes were unsettling, yet unthreatening at the same time, only watching her with curiosity. If not for the massive size of the direwolf, Rhaenys would have even gushed at the adorable tilt of its head, its expressions almost human-like in their intelligence.

Rhaenys swallowed a small gulp as the direwolf padded over to her, sniffing her body all over. She knew the direwolf obeyed its master’s every command and would do nothing to harm her, but nevertheless, Rhaenys stayed completely still, not moving a muscle as the creature studied her.

In some odd way, the direwolf reminded Rhaenys greatly of Eliaxes, its mannerisms and intelligent eyes no different than the much bigger dragon. A pang of despair shot through Rhaenys at the thought of her companion. Eliaxes, in some ways, was her closest friend, always by her side even when Aegon or Dany were not. Leaving the dragon in their enemies hands had caused her more hurt than imaginable, but she was left little choice but to put her faith in Jon Snow.

As if sensing her sorrow, Ghost nuzzled her palm with his snout, trying to comfort her with his presence. The soft licks on her skin brought a small smile to Rhaenys’ face as she ruffled his thick white fur, giving him light scratches behind the ear.

The huge direwolf laid its head in Rhaenys’ lap in contentment, and she could only marvel in wonder. The beast was capable of snapping a man’s neck with a single bite, and yet here he laid, silent and unmoving as a ghost. Only a soft growl rumbling from deep within its chest could be heard to indicate his contentment.

Rhaenys let her mind wander to the direwolf’s companion, Jon Snow. The man who’d managed to stand his ground at every turn in their bickering. His headstrong attitude drove her absolutely mad at times, but she also admired that about him. Never had Rhaenys ever met a man who was as bold, and brave, and stubborn as Jon Snow. Not that she’d met many men during her life in exile, but the few lords she’d met since then had paled terribly in comparison to the Bastard of the North. Perhaps, that was what drove Rhaenys towards him, the similarities in their determination drawing them together despite the odds. 

A small rustling noise sounded from outside the tent, drawing Rhaenys away from her thoughts. Before she could even compose herself, Jon Snow unveiled the cover of the tent before entering.

“Not much of a morning person are you, princess?” Jon mused with a raised eyebrow in amusement, noticing her disheveled hair and state of undress. Even now though, there was a wild beauty about the princess that made it nearly impossible for Jon to look away. Even at the risk of her noticing, there was just something that drew Jon towards this girl, no matter how hard he tried to deny it within himself. She was unlike any lady he’d ever met. Not that Jon’s met many ladies, but he had a feeling that Rhaenys was one of a kind. Those eyes that threatened to pierce through his soul… Jon could do nothing to help the erratic beatings within his chest.

Rhaenys, meanwhile, did not grace his teasing remark with an answer. Trying her best to untangle her loose braids, she could only grunt in frustration as her hair refused to be tamed. Jon’s unabashed staring was not helping her in any way. Without even having to look, Rhaenys could feel his eyes trained upon her, lighting her skin on fire everywhere he looked.

With a huff of annoyance, Rhaenys threw her wild hair over her shoulder, giving up any attempt to fix it. 

“Here, let me.” Jon muttered as he settled behind Rhaenys, taking her braids within his hands. Her instincts screamed at her to slap his hands away, but with one touch, any complaints she had died in her throat. Rhaenys could only sit in silence as Jon gently loosened her braids and combed through her hair with his fingers, trying to untangle any locks. She prayed that her silent moans went unnoticed as he tugged gently at her hair, but there was nothing Rhaenys could do to hide the flush in her cheeks and the back of her neck. The thoughts of Jon’s hands on her skin and in her hair was nearly driving her wild, her breaths shuddering visibly into the cold morning air. 

“Is it time?” Rhaenys asked briskly, trying her best to keep the trembling out of her voice. She looked on ahead as Jon finished up, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Aye.” Jon answered simply. “Most of the men have already packed up camp. We march in fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, Jon began moving about the tent, packing what little of his belongings he had with him. Rhaenys could only sit there silently, unsure what else to do. Glancing outside her tent, she noticed most of the men moving along the Kingsroad, ready to march yet again. A pang of pity shot through Rhaenys as she watched the Northmen, many of them common folk who may never return home to their families.

But such was the way of war. Rhaenys had realized that long ago ― the lords who’d sworn to protect their people were the same ones who sent them to their deaths on the battlefield. The fact remained the same wherever they went. In Essos... in the South… in the North. Everywhere in the world, the common folk were the ones who suffered from the grudges and petty arguments between lords and Kings. 

And yet, when it came time for the nobles to protect the people, they deserted their duties like cowards, leaving the weak to fend for themselves. Rhaenys prayed to all the gods she knew that this war won’t end in complete bloodshed for the sake of the people, but even she knew that the chances were slim. It would be unlike Aegon to allow the North to go unpunished, especially if he learned of their capabilities to subdue a dragon.

Rhaenys saw only one end to this fight, and just the thought of Jon Snow lying dead by her feet nearly made her retch in horror.

_ You can’t win this fight.  _ Rhaenys had tried to convince, pleading with as much desperation as she could. But the man had remained as stubborn as ever, refusing to listen to reason. It pained Rhaenys’ heart to know that with every day passing, he was marching closer and closer to their doom. Their men stood no chance in the open field, and there was hardly anything they could do if Aegon truly wished to attack full force.

It hadn’t even been a moon since she’d met this man, and yet in that short time, Rhaenys felt as if she’d known him for a lifetime. 

_ Would she really be able to choose to stand against him? It was a choice between her family, ones who she’d sworn to protect and a man, a stranger until a fortnight ago. _

The hesitation within her heart terrified Rhaenys more than anything.  _ Why did it have to be him? Of all people, it just had to be someone they’re fighting this war against. What in the Seven Hells made her so fixated on Jon Snow that she could nearly forget everything they’d worked so hard for. _

No matter how hard Rhaenys tried to push him away, to force these feelings from her heart, there was always a small voice that whispered within her.  _ Why fight it? He wouldn’t be so bad… _

But before she could ponder any further, Jon had his horse saddled and looked towards her expectantly. With a swift move, Jon lifted her above the horse, settling Rhaenys into the saddle before climbing behind her gracefully. He grabbed the reins from around her, and once again, Rhaenys could smell his scent surrounding her. Suffocating her. Even if she closed her eyes, it only made her desire it more.  _ To have his hands around her… his body pressed firmly against her back.  _

Rhaenys no longer fought against the intimate contact, no matter how much it still made her flush in embarrassment. She cursed herself for getting such a rise for such things. For all her fiery temper and prowess as a warrior princess, she was still very much a maiden who blushed at every touch. No man had ever made her feel this way, but Rhaenys found it increasingly difficult to even look into Jon’s eyes the more she got to know him.

For just these moments, Rhaenys allowed herself to be distracted by this beautiful man who seemed to make it his mission to torment her with his presence. 

_ Not that Rhaenys was really complaining if she was being honest with herself. _

* * *

**Driftmark (Near Dragonstone)**

Daenerys stared out from the castle of Driftmark, watching the bustling activity in the shipyard below as the men prepared to sail the Royal Fleet. Nearly a hundred ships ― war galleys and trading boats ― gathered here at the mouth of Blackwater Bay. Aegon was truly wary of the North if he intended to sail the entire Royal Fleet. There were few naval forces in the Seven Kingdoms that could compare, and the North definitely did not boast that honor. An attack of this magnitude from the sea was sure to crush the Northerners, and if everything went according to plan, not even the greatest strategist would be able to avoid the pincer movement they’d deploy on the Northern host.

All they needed to do was to make haste in journeying North. It was a race against time; the Royal Fleet would be useless if they arrived too late to cut off the Northerner’s retreat. They had to support Aegon’s attack at the Neck and surround Robb Stark’s army. It was their only chance to win the war here and now, and letting this opportunity slip their grasp would be devastating. 

“The Royal Fleet is at your command, your grace.” Lord Monford Velaryon announced from behind her, dipping into a bow. “The ships would be ready to sail within the hour. We’ve been preparing nonstop since King Aegon had sent his raven. The North would be no match for us at sea, your grace.”

“Very well.” Daenerys nodded approvingly. “We have no time to waste; set sail the moment the men are ready. It’s a short journey, but anything could happen along the way. We’ll make landfall along the Eastern coast near White Harbor. It’s the closest keep to the Neck, and they’re no doubt supplying the Stark host. There should be little resistance, but prepare for a fight at any time. The North know their homes better than we do, it’d be foolish to let our guards down.”   
  
“Yes, your grace.” Lord Velaryon unfurled a map atop the table before them. “It would be best to sail up the mouth of the White Knife all the way up to White Harbor. It’d be less than a day’s march from King Aegon’s host, and we could sweep down and strangle the Northern forces at the Neck. No army would be able to withstand an attack from two sides.”

“Yes, which is why we must set sail immediately. I’ll be flying above on Viserion, and if I see any changes to our plan, I’ll inform you personally.”

Suddenly, a large horn blared from the shipyard as she heard voices shout from below in alarm. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out the shapes in the distance, slowly rising along the horizon of the Narrow Sea. More than fifty ships out in the narrow sea, sailing straight towards their fleet in the docks of Driftmark.

“Are those more ships of ours?” Daenerys asked dubiously as she watched the ominous ships approach, moving much faster than what she thought war galleys were capable of.

“No, your grace.” Lord Velaryon answered gravely. “Most of the Royal Fleet are gathered here with only a few others at King’s Landing. There are too many ships approaching to be stray merchant boats. It’s a small fleet of their own, no doubt.”

_ It couldn’t be the Redwyne Fleet. _ Daenerys thought with apprehension. The Reach had already bent the knee, and the Tyrell army was marching with Aegon against the North. They’d have known if their fleet was joining them in battle, but there was no way for them to sail around Westeros in time. But that would only leave the―

_ Krakens.  _ Dany could just barely discern the sigils in the distance.  _ Golden squids painted on large black masts.  _ There was no mistake, this was the Iron Fleet. Daenerys cursed their own foolishness to believe that the Iron Islands would only sit back and watch as the conflicts of Westeros unfolded. She should have known better, that those opportunistic reavers would jump at the first chance they saw.

It was fortunate she was present along with her dragon, or else an ambush on a docked fleet would have been devastating no matter how large the Royal Fleet was.    
  
“Prepare the men for battle.” Daenerys commanded as she walked briskly up to the large open balcony where Viserion laid resting. The dragon raised its head as if sensing her urgency, lowering its wing to allow Dany to climb up its scales. “They’re delaying us every second we spend fighting them. I’ll fly ahead to burn the bulk of their ships, have the galleys manned and―”

Before Daenerys could even finish, a large explosion sounded from the shipyard. Splinters of wood boards, masts, and poles flew everywhere as the rest of the destroyed ship went up in flames, sinking slowly into the water.

_ Fireballs. _ Daenerys realized with dread as she watched countless more projectiles launch from the incoming fleet within just a blink of an eye. Angry red streaks flew across the sky before they rained destruction upon the island, sinking their war galleys with a single blow.

“Get men on the ships, now! They're just sitting ducks here in the shipyard, they need to move!”

Without another word, Lord Velaryon hurried off, barking orders as the destruction continued to rain down upon them. With a harsh curse, Daenerys flew off, headed straight for the incoming fleet. 

This was the last thing they needed. Of all the things that could’ve happened, those damned krakens just needed to throw a wrench into their plans now. Daenerys swore that by the end of this, the entire Iron Fleet would be sitting at the bottom of the sea. 

Climbing high into the air, Daenerys could finally see the entire landscape. More than fifty ships were approaching from the Narrow Sea, stretching far across to block off the entire mouth of Blackwater Bay. They were looking to land a crippling blow to the Royal Fleet, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t account for her nor Viserion being here. And now lined up side by side, they provided a perfect angle for Daenerys to sweep across with dragonfire.

But before Dany could even begin to descend, an object whizzed past her faster than her eye can blink. It just narrowly missed Viserion, and Dany focused her eyes to see dozens of crossbow ballista mounted on the ships. Without a second thought, she forced Viserion to climb higher towards the clouds as a few more spears buzzed past their targets. 

Dany knew that eventually, they’d come across enemies that were prepared to take down their dragons, but still, the possibility stirred an unsettling fear within her that never existed before. 

Finally, when Dany climbed to a height where Viserion could rise no more, she settled directly above the Iron Fleet, looking down upon them as she prepared to dive. One ship stood out amongst the rest. A huge war galley nearly twice the size of the others sailed in the center, no doubt manned by the captain of the fleet. Its dark red hull was as ominous as the mast that stretched as wide as Viserion’s wings. A fearsome sight, one that struck terror into the hearts of its enemies. Daenerys knew she needed to destroy that ship, but everything in her being told her to stay away. As far as possible.

Taking a deep breath, Daenerys calmed her heart as she hardened her determination. This was her duty as well. She didn’t come all the way to Westeros to just watch as Aegon and Rhaenys wage war by themselves. She was a dragon as well, and it was time she’d show it on the battlefield as well. 

With a single Valyrian command, Viserion began to nosedive, speeding towards the ships lined along the edge. Her hair whipped wildly behind her and the wind slapped harshly across her face, but Daenerys held her focus on her target as she approached rapidly. 

The ships nearby had no way of targeting her approach from straight above, and the faraway ships had no way to lock onto her with her diving out of the sky. When the closest ship finally came within range, Daenerys gave the final command.

_ Dracarys. _

A powerful stream of fire erupted from Viserion’s snout as he scorched the ships in his breath. The wooden floor planks and masts ignited with bright flames as men aboard burned on their ships.

_ What is Dead may never die?  _ Daenerys scoffed at the thought.  _ It was a fitting end for the Ironborn, she supposed. To burn by dragonfire in the midst of the sea, where they thought they ruled over. _

The dragon fire continued to rain down upon the Iron Fleet as Viserion began to flatten his dive, following the line of ships in his destruction. With just a few bursts of fire, more than ten ships laid burning away in flames, slowly sinking into the sea.

She didn’t have much more time. Dany knew that if she lingered too long, one of those bolts would eventually strike their target. But that ominous ship still remained. The mouthless stone maiden built atop its prow staring at her challengingly. 

But before she could even contemplate anything else, the other ships had already begun reloading their ballista. Noticing her predicament, Dany was forced to retreat and prepare for another dive. 

“Soves.” She urged Viserion to climb once again, but the young dragon, already tired from the flight, could only do so much to rise. 

_ They were moving far too slow.  _ Dany realized with daunting fear.  _ They would not gain enough altitude before the rest of the ballista were ready to fire.  _

Daenerys spared a look back at her own fleet stationed around the island, and saw a few ships beginning to mount a defense against the Iron Fleet. A naval battle was inevitable, but she needed to regroup and attack again along with her ships. 

Making the final decision, Daenerys turned Viserion away from the Iron Fleet to head back towards the island, but a dreadful feeling within Dany shook her to her very core. Turning her head, she could only watch the ominous ship warily, bracing for what’s to come. 

The last thing she heard was a terrible sound, the blaring of a horn that seemed to pierce her eardrums and echo across the sea. The vibrations alone hammered away at Dany’s chest as she was forced to close her eyes in pain. 

The horn was so loud that Daenerys could hardly hear Viserion screeching and struggling from beneath her, but within just a blink of an eye, it became deadly silent. 

Not even the ringing in her ears, nor the waves of the sea beneath her registered in her mind. The only thing she felt was a jolt of pain as Viserion thrashed to a stop in its flight, throwing Daenerys from her mount and into the Narrow Sea below.


	12. Bewilderment

**The Neck**

Rhaenys stared out anxiously into the distance, her eyes scanning the skies for the familiar sight as they awaited Aegon’s arrival. There was an eerie silence in the cold Northern morning, the tension as thick as the swamps of the Neck. A small glance at the man straddled behind her, and Rhaenys only saw the image of calm and stoicism. But pressed closely into his torso, it was as if Rhaenys could feel his every emotion and movement. Even Jon Snow felt the apprehension in their situation, his heart beating like a drum against her back.

Just beyond the stretch of the Kingsroad leading up to Moat Cailin from the South, Aegon’s army awaited in tight formation, but looking muddied and battered from the long march North. More than 30,000 Dornishmen and Reachmen combined, the banners alone were countless among the sea of soldiers. 

The Starks’ own men, Rhaenys knew, were not far behind them. Tens of thousands of men laid hiding within the mountainous plains North of Moat Cailin. There were hardly enough men to match the Targaryen numbers, but Rhaenys knew it was definitely more than they’d anticipated from the North. 

_The bloody war was only moments away from breaking out, you could nearly smell it in the air. Those that did only stirred the hunger within them ― the lust for violence and killing. There will be blood drawn today… regardless of how their final negotiations go between Aegon and Jon._

And judging from Jon’s expression, he had that sense as well. The only thing separating the two armies was Moat Cailin and about a mile of distance ― a stretch of land filled with nothing but bogs. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape.

But here they stood, all alone out in the open, surrounded by armies on all sides as they waited for Aegon. Rhaenys clenched her teeth at the nervousness that refused to subside. 

They were standing in the middle of two armies waiting to clash, but she would be helpless to do anything to even protect herself. Should the fighting start, having her life in the hands of another, no matter how much she reluctantly trusted the person, was not a good option by any means. 

As much as Rhaenys hated to admit, without Eliaxes, she stood little to no chance against armed men. Unlike Aegon, who’d been trained as a swordsman since he was old enough to walk, Rhaenys had only been taught to defend herself ― having just enough ability to swing a sword.

_What would happen to her? Would Aegon really leave her to such a fate?_

It scared Rhaenys that she didn’t really know. Deep within her heart, she knew Aegon cared for her, just as much as she did him. But was it enough to risk their entire purpose? If Aegon refused to settle with peace, Jon and Rhaenys would be stranded in the heart of the battlefield with nowhere to escape. 

Jon Snow’s life was in as much jeopardy as hers, even if she was the prisoner. And the thought of that gripped her heart like an anchor.

“Would you stop fidgeting already, princess.” Jon Snow chastised gruffly from behind her. “It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Well it wouldn’t have been a problem if you would’ve just given me a horse.” Rhaenys retorted. “And don’t accuse me as if you’re any better. I know you’re just as nervous beneath that mask of yours.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re so skittish. Nervous of your own brother?” Jon Snow challenged with a small mocking smirk. “Or have you grown fond of me?”

“I’m worried your foolish stubbornness will get the both of us killed.” Rhaenys grit out frustratingly, wishing that she could slap the smugness of his face. “In case you haven’t noticed, if either side attacks, there’s nowhere for us to run. You may think you’re some great warrior, but I don’t like my chances having to rely on you.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Jon said solemnly, his easy smirk earlier replaced with a serious sincerity. “You didn’t deserve to be used like this, but it’s the only way for us to stop this war. I wish it could have gone differently, perhaps we could’ve met under different circumstances. But now… we can only pray that the gods are on our side. On _all_ of our sides, and that this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

Rhaenys glanced over her shoulder to catch the sad look in his eyes, and a similar pang of sorrow went through her heart. It was impossible to remain crossed at Jon Snow, especially when he revealed his true vulnerability beneath that stoic mask of his. Subconsciously, Rhaenys reached out to grab Jon’s hands, feeling the warmth on his skin despite the cold weather.

“What if it does?” Rhaenys asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What happens if this accomplishes nothing? What if we―”

“I’ll protect you.” Jon responded fiercely. “I promise, Rhaenys. Should something go wrong, I’ll protect you with my life. I swear it, by all the gods, no harm will come to you.”

In that moment, Rhaenys wanted so desperately to believe his words, to have faith in Jon Snow, but she knew the gods cared not for how honorable or good a man was. Death was an indiscriminate judge, and it took whoever it wished. Rich or poor, young or old. It didn’t matter which house you were born into, or what life you’ve led. One day, death will come for you, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.

“I don’t think I could watch you die.” Rhaenys revealed with a slight tremble in her voice, the admission betraying every shell she’d tried to build up around herself.

_Be a warrior. Show no weakness. Destroy your enemies._

It went against everything she thought she was, but Jon Snow brought out something different within her ― a softer side that she’d refused to show anybody.

She swiveled in her seat to meet Jon’s eyes, who had a soft gleam within them as well. It was only for a few moments, but Rhaenys felt as if she’d been staring into those stormy grey orbs for an eternity. They were so close to one another, their bodies practically pressed against each other atop the saddle, and their foggy breaths mingled together in the cold air. 

Rhaenys had the subtle urge to close the final distance between them, her eyes darting unconsciously to his lips. But before she could even process her thoughts, an ear-piercing roar reverberated through the air as Rhaegal vehemently announced his arrival. Even the horse had begun teetering nervously, but a few calm strokes from Jon had calmed the poor animal down.

A great shadow moved across the snowy grounds in the distance before they finally caught sight of Aegon, riding atop his cream white dragon with golden-bronze colored wings.

Had Rhaenys imagined it? Or did a quick flash of disappointment shoot across Jon’s eyes? It was gone in the blink of an eye, his face settling back to its stoic mask. A small part within Rhaenys cursed her brother at his timing, but his interruption had shaken her out of her daze, only leaving her more confused than before.

Not giving her much more time to think, Jon urged his horse further forward, towards a patch of dry earth, where Aegon had landed with a thud.

He looked every bit the image of a king. His regal red cape flowing in the wind, and his armor donned beautifully with the Targaryen sigil. His silver hair was tied back tightly to reveal the chiseled face of a man grown, his short stubble distinguishing himself from the likes of greenboys.

They came to a stop within speaking distance, close enough to observe every detail of their counterpart. It was an odd sight with the dragon’s hulking presence dwarfing the horse, but Jon had rode up, uncaringly of the blatant threat before him. The audaciousness of Jon Snow to come closer to a dragon than anyone ever dared had shocked Rhaenys the first time, and judging by the slight twitch of his eyebrows, Aegon had been surprised as well. 

An awkward silence permeated the air as the two men studied each other. Rhaenys felt Aegon’s eyes train over her shoulder, staring intently at the man behind her, and Jon Snow was undoubtedly doing the same. 

“The rumors were true then.” Aegon said finally as his emotionless eyes landed on her. “You’ve captured my sister, along with her dragon. An impressive feat, I must say. You’d have to tell me how you’ve managed that when no one else could.”

“You underestimate us, your grace.” Jon replied easily, as Aegon turned his attention back to him. “The North does not intend to roll over as the other kingdoms have. You’ll find much more trouble here if you believe your dragons will hand you victory.”

“ ‘ _Your grace?’_ , I was under the impression you Northerners have crowned your own king.” Aegon questioned. “Have you changed your mind on the matter since?”

“With all due respect, _your grace_ , you are not my king. We know no king but the king in the North whose name is Stark. Robb Stark is my king and will forever be my king. But I will not deny the fact that you are a King as well. You’ve taken the Iron Throne and rule your conquered Southern Kingdom by right. The North respects that and has no wish to steal the crown from you. Our only wish is to have the freedom and right to govern ourselves in matters that don’t concern Southerners. There does not need be only one King in Westeros, _your grace_.”

“And where is this man you proclaim as King?” Aegon challenged with a tilt of his head. “We’ve heard stories of Robb Stark leading his own men into battle. I’d expected to meet him here.”

“I assure you King Robb will be the first to ride into battle should it come to that, but that is not why I’m here.” Jon took a small breath before continuing. “None of this needs to happen. You can save thousands of lives ― your men… your sister. No one needs to die today, let’s settle this peacefully, Aegon.”

All pleasantries disappeared from Jon’s tone as his serious gaze bored into Aegon’s rooting him in place. If not for what Aegon had learned of this man, just that look alone was enough to show him Jon Snow was no ordinary bastard. He had the trust of the King in the North, after all, being able to stand here and speak in his place.

“I cannot agree more.” Aegon shot back. “Surrender now, and swear fealty once more to the crown as your ancestors had three hundred years ago. And I swear in the name of House Targaryen that we’ll seek no reparations, and that the North will henceforth be treated fairly. You have my word as King.”

His only response was a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive us for doubting your words, your grace, but the words of southern kings carry little honor here in the North. But it seems you’re mistaken altogether. We’re here to negotiate your surrender, not ours. Leave us be, and we’ll allow Rhaenys to return home as well as her dragon. I’m no king, but I swear upon my honor no harm will come to your sister.”

Aegon could only sigh in disappointment as his face settled into an impassive coldness. “I had hoped it didn’t have to come to this, but it seems I was naive to believe otherwise. If you refuse to submit peacefully, I’ll just have to take it by force.”

“Even at the cost of your own sister?” Jon Snow’s grasp tightened slightly around her arm, but Rhaenys knew better than to speak out right now. Any misstep, and it would be over for them.

“And what will you do otherwise?.” Aegon replied in a small smirk. “Just one look into your eyes, and I can see that you’re incapable of harming a defenseless woman. It was foolish of you to bluff your only advantage before me. Everyone in Westeros knows how you Starks value your honor, but it’ll be your downfall here today. Just as your father’s was in King’s Landing.”

A silent rage simmered within Jon at the taunts, but he managed to keep his emotions in check, swallowing any retorts that itched at the tip of his tongue.

“You know nothing of the North. Not our lands, not our people, and least of all our honor.” Jon bristled. “You’re not fit to rule the North, and we’ll never bend the knee again to an outsider. You may think it’s your god-given right to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, but you’ll find no such submission here.”

“I’m not here to discuss the merits of my sovereignty.” Aegon retorted with a bite. “Justice is decided by the victors, and the North will learn the foolishness of its resistance soon enough. Just know it didn’t have to come to this; it’s as much your doing as it is mine, so expect no further mercy from me because that was the last of it.”

“Then I see there’s nothing left to discuss.” Jon gritted out as he began to grab the reins of his horse. “You may have your dragons, but we’ll take our chances on the battlefield. It wouldn’t be a first for us to take down a dragon.”

Aegon let out a foreboding laugh before his gaze settled back on the pair before him, both eyeing him intently, but with different wariness.

“You’re a bigger fool than I’d thought, Jon Snow.”

If there was any surprise within him, Jon hid it well behind his stoic mask. “You’re mistaken if you think you know anything about me, Aegon Targaryen.”

“Quite the contrary, Jon Snow.” Aegon relished at the first unease he’d felt emanating from the man. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the South. Stories of how you managed to rescue your sister from King’s Landing single handedly… stories of you and your direwolves in battle… stories of how you managed to capture a dragon. It seems we’re not the only ones with magic in our veins, you Northmen have a few tricks up your sleeves as well.” 

Jon’s heart began to beat rapidly despite his calm exterior showing little to no reaction. The dragon had begun growling menacingly at them, and Jon wasn’t sure if his horse hadn’t simply been frozen in fright.

“It truly is a shame it had to come to this, Jon Snow.” Aegon lamented, his eyes showing the first glimpses of regret. “You may be an honorable man, but you’ll have to understand why I can’t let a man of your capabilities go free.”

A daunting realization shined in Rhaenys’ eyes as she looked towards Aegon apprehensively. “Whatever you think you’re doing, Egg… please. Don’t. They’ll never forgive you for this.”

Rhaenys had prayed that her tone would get through to Aegon, but she could tell her warning had only fallen on deaf ears.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown to sympathize with our enemies, Rhae.” Aegon sneered with a look of distaste. “Have you become soft, sister? You were the most adamant out of all of us to destroy our enemies. What’s happened to you now?”

“Aegon just... please. You don’t have to do this.”

Jon’s grasp only tightened more around Rhaenys’ arm, staring down Aegon and his dragon warily. _What did he plan to do? Burn both of them alive?_

The thought was ridiculous, but Jon could see no alternative as sparks of flame licked at the back of the dragon’s snout. Just one small breath, and both him and Rhaenys would be done for.

Rhaenys pleaded silently for Jon Snow to just drop her and ride away as quickly as possible, but even then, she knew he wouldn’t get far. _Did he plan to warg into Aegon’s dragon as he had with Eliaxes? Was Jon Snow capable of doing it once again?_ Rhaenys had absolutely no idea, but she found that deep within, she was praying for Jon Snow… 

_Were these thoughts betraying her own family? Her own brother?_ Faced with those two choices, Rhaenys was unable to choose, and could only hope for the safety of both. But judging by the current situation, Aegon was only seconds away from incinerating Jon Snow.

“Is this your plan, Aegon?” Jon interrogated with a mix of frustration and dread. “Is your cause more important than your own family? Your own sister?”

“It seems you’re not fully aware of the extent of our powers either.” Aegon revealed with a hint of pity. “The magic in our Valyrian blood extends far past our ability to bond with our dragons. It’s an ancient magic that’s beyond your understanding.”

“Aegon! Please, don’t do this!”

“It’ll be over before you know it.” Aegon cut off, ignoring Rhaenys’ final pleas. “You know as well as I do. Dany’s done it before, you’ll hardly feel any pain, Rhae. Remember who we are ― dragons cannot be killed by fire.” 

Before Rhaenys could utter another word, she felt the air around them begin to simmer as Rhaegal reared back its head. 

_“Dracarys.”_

In that last instant, Rhaenys felt herself being tackled to the ground before a blistering heat consumed her senses.

* * *

A bizarre chain of thoughts sped through Jon’s mind as he watched the life flash before his eyes. Time seemed to slow as if to drag out his agonizing death, but his body felt as if it was moving through sand, refusing to catch up to his mind. 

_Memories of his childhood, running through the godswood, sneaking into the crypts… the time he’d spent with the Night’s Watch, admiring the far North from atop the wall… the wars he’d fought alongside Robb and the rest of his men, the blood stained upon his sword and his skin… the dark-skinned princess who seemed to consume his very being._

A thousand thoughts flashed through Jon’s head, but one thing was for certain. If there was anything he could go back and change, it’d sure as hell be to make sure he didn’t spend his last moments staring down the muzzle of a fire-breathing dragon.

His last ditch attempt to warg into the dragon had been as futile as any attempt to escape the flames. The dragon’s mind was strong and resilient, able to repel his advance with ease. 

In those last moments, Jon resigned himself to his fate. _The first among the Northern casualties to fall to the dreaded dragonfire._ He only prayed that wherever they went after death was a more pleasant place than the world they lived in.

Jon wasn’t sure what made his body move. Perhaps it was a subconscious thought of a promise to protect her, or perhaps it was a last-ditch survival instinct that screamed at him to do something. But before he even knew it, he wrapped an arm around Rhaenys’ waist before throwing the both of them from the horse and onto the ground. The dirt was muddied from surrounding swamps and light snow which covered the ground, but Jon knew even this was futile. They would both be reduced to ashes no matter how hard he tried to shield Rhaenys’ body with his own. 

Jon heard a distinctive hiss before he was hit with the searing flames. The furs on his body stood no chance as they were reduced to ashes within the matter of seconds. The heat was so overwhelming not even a sound was able to escape his lungs.

_This was it. Not even the gods can save him now._

In that moment, the strange thought ran through his mind that death was not so unpleasant. There was no pain, no sound, no wailing. Only the uncomfortable warmth that threatened to swallow him whole.

  
  


Aegon released a shuddering breath as he watched the stream of fire wash over the pair before him. Even though he knew Rhaenys could not be burnt, it was a difficult thing to see ― one’s own sister swallowed up in flames.

After a long continuous blast, the flames from Rhaegal’s muzzle finally sputtered out, leaving a large patch of blackened earth that was stamped into the snow covered swamps, melting the thin ice around the edges.

In that moment, all hell broke loose as he heard chaos erupt from behind him. Seeing his dragon fire as a signal of war, his men had begun storming the battlefield. Led by thousands of cavalry, they charged through the swamps as they began closing in on Moat Cailin and Aegon’s position.

He urged Rhaegal forward to the blackened remains before him. _He’d have to retrieve Rhaenys before the battle broke out. There was no telling whether she’d be able to survive, even if their army took control of the battle._

As the smoke subsided, Aegon was frozen in shock at the sight before him. Next to the blackened remains of the horse, laid two figures huddled together on the ground. Their clothes were burned away, skin covered in soot, but they were very much alive.

_Both of them._

Aegon could only stare in utter bewilderment as Jon Snow has slowly risen from the ashes along with his sister Rhaenys. _Both unburnt._

_But that was impossible. Was this another trick of his? No… only the Valyrians had the ability to withstand flames, let alone dragon fire. But that would mean…_

Jon and Rhaenys looked at each other in equal befuddlement, eyes searching wildly as if they’d witnessed death, and not even noticing the utter state of undress they were both in.

Taking a closer look at Jon Snow, Aegon could hardly discern a single Valyrian feature about him. Where Rhaenys had carried the Martell appearance, there were aspects of her features that were unmistakably Valyrian. 

_But Jon Snow carried no such features._

His hair was dark, his eyes undoubtedly a Northern grey. Everything about him, in fact, gave off the splitting image of a Northerner. Had Aegon not been informed, he was likely to have been led to believe he was the true son of Eddard Stark, the newly proclaimed King in the North.

But before Aegon could linger any further on the thought, he was interrupted by the charging army behind him. Hundreds of banners waved amongst the sea of men, indicating their allegiances to Dorne, Highgarden, and House Targaryen.

_But something was amiss. The opposite side of the battlefield had been deathly quiet, almost eerily so. Aegon had no doubts the Robb Stark had his army hidden beyond the hills, but he’d yet to see any reaction from the Northern army as his own closed in on Moat Cailin._

_Furthermore, there was more to Jon Snow than anyone could’ve expected. Aegon needed him alive, and he needed answers. Neither were going to be his if his men got to him first._

“Halt! Stay back.” Aegon yelled to his men with as much force as he could muster, but it was easily lost in the throes of charging men and chaotic war cries. It would only be seconds before the rampage of men descended upon the helpless pair laying defenseless in the battlefield. But as if reading Aegon’s mind without even a command, Rhaegal released a huge stream of dragon fire, creating a large arc of flames around them. 

_That_ had seemed to get the men's attention, as the army slowed to a halt before they were reduced to ashes. 

With one giant leap and a few beatings of his wings, Rhaegal hovered into the air as he managed to get the attention of all the men before him.

“Stay back!” Aegon repeated, a low warning . “Any man who disobeys my orders again …

A small whistling sound tore through the air, but before Aegon could even look up, it felt as if he was hit by a pile of bricks, the force sending him and Rhaegal crashing into the ground. The straps locking his legs into the saddle was the only thing keeping him attached to his dragon, but now Aegon debated whether that was a good thing. 

As Rhaegal slowly rolled to a stop, Aegon could only pray that they would land favorably, and that he wouldn’t spend his last moments being crushed by his own dragon. 

_Terrible way to go, that would be. They’d be mocking him for generations, forever a stain in the history books. The Targaryen that was crushed beneath his own dragon._

But fortunately, Aegon had landed on top, somehow with all his limbs intact. His men were much less fortunate however, as Aegon looked up to see a trail of smeared blood and bodies in the path of destruction as Rhaegal barreled into his army. 

_Wh-what was this?_

Aegon blinked in confusion as he tried his best to focus his eyes. His vision was terribly distorted, and Aegon was only able to catch snippets of his surroundings as the world continued to sway before his eyes. _Must’ve hit his head in the fall,_ Aegon realized amidst his blurry daze. 

It felt as if they’d been trapped with a snare, binding Aegon and his dragon to the ground. Rhaegal was struggling to stand and extend his wings, but whatever it was, it prevented Rhaegal from even getting up from the ground.

_This wasn’t good._ A feeling of dread slowly began building within Aegon. _Was this how everything was going to end? Everything they’d endured and worked so hard for was going to come to an end here?_

Aegon reached out blindly to grab hold of whatever had hit them, trying desperately to free himself and Rhaegal. _A net?_ Aegon tried to discern as his vision began to clear. His hand latched onto a thick rope that was drawn tight around Rhaegal’s body, but the net refused to give despite the strong tugs from Aegon.

Taking a second to calm his racing heart, Aegon took a deep breath and did his best to assuage his fears. _Panic would only make him irrational. Remember your lessons from Ser Arthur. This is no different from a swordfight. Find the problem… and solve the problem._ With a determined exhale, opened his eyes to face the carnage before him.

_He would need to calm Rhaegal first,_ Aegon decided as his dragon continued to thrash around wildly within the net, trampling hundreds of soldiers in his wake. The entire frontlines of his army fell into chaos as the men tried their hardest to scramble to safety away from the dragon. It was a marvel that Aegon remained strapped to his saddle, his torso thrown back and forth with each whip of the dragon’s body. But Aegon knew, even being strapped into his saddle, soon or later he’d be thrown from his seat with how wildly Rhaegal was struggling. 

Looking towards the ends of the net, Aegon found four boulders anchoring down the large net. _A catapult, then._ Aegon deduced, cursing within his head at the ingenuity of his enemies. _It’d be near impossible to miss with a few of these, and judging from their current state, extremely effective once it hit its target._

Aegon tried his best to draw his sword to cut through the thick ropes, but the net had been knotted at every cross. It’d be nearly impossible to cut through enough of the thick ropes to create an opening large enough for Rhaegal. Even worse, the net only seemed to tighten with every thrash of Rhaegal’s body, the boulders wrapping further around the dragon and crushing his wings to his torso. 

Reaching out to his connection with Rhaegal, Aegon tried desperately to calm his dragon. But the young creature’s mind was clouded with fear, listening only to its survival instincts screaming at him to flee.

_Please, Rhaegal!_ Aegon begged within his mind, pleading with his dragon to listen to him. The violent thrashing only calmed somewhat as the dragon began to obey its master. The fear was still largely present within the young creature's mind, but Aegon did his best to instill as much trust within Rhaegal as he could.

However, before he could even do anything else, the unmistakable whirl of countless catapults sounded in the distance as they sent their projectiles whistling through the air. Looking up into the sky, Aegon could only watch helplessly as clusters of boulders came hurling in their direction, expanding as they flew through the sky until the nets were as large as ship masts. He counted more than ten weighted nets stretched across the sky nearly an acre across. 

_There was nothing they could do._ _It was as if watching your own death approach with nothing to stop it._ The projectiles nearly blotted out the entire sky as they descended upon them, each carrying enough force with the boulders alone to take a man’s head clean off. 

Oddly, there was a stretch of silence as the chaos of the men around them calmed to a brief halt, each coming to the startling realization with helpless dread at their inescapable doom. 

_This truly was the end._

The silence was brief and fleeting, lasting hardly a second before hell rained down upon the Targaryen army. 

All around him, havoc and destruction ensued as the projectiles tore through men and horses alike. The fortunate few had been caught within the net, the force of the blow likely snapping their entangled limbs. The unfortunate ones met the brutal end of the flying boulders as they took out chunks of bodies in one hit. 

In just a matter of seconds, bloodied corpses littered the battlefield, staining the bogs and snows blood red in their wake. But that had only been the beginning, as the rest of the projectiles descended upon their targets. Aegon could only pray he wouldn’t end up among the mangled corpses, but he knew the chances were low. He was no doubt their main target, and judging by the accuracy of the shots, it’d be hard to imagine any escape for him and Rhaegal.

The images of silver hair flashed through his mind as he imagined her face in those final moments.

_I’m sorry, Dany…_ A thousand emotions flooded through Aegon’s mind ― regret, sorrow, anger, fear, love ― but the last image of Daenerys had brought a sense of tranquility to Aegon’s final thoughts as he prepared for whatever to come.

A blinding pain seared through his left shoulder before Aegon’s world went to black, the last images of the woman he loved fading away into nothingness.


	13. Surrender

**The Neck**

It was all a blur to Jon as he watched the events unfold before his very eyes. Perhaps it was from the shock of surviving the dragon fire, but his body refused to move as he only sat there in bewilderment. His heavy panting was the only indication in his mind that he was truly alive, and not burnt to a crisp by the dragon. That and the stunned silence around them as Aegon watched on in equal shock, his mouth agape at the figure before him. Their men had slowly come to a stop, surrounding them on the battlefield, but they too seemed stunned at the sight.

Jon felt a slight movement from behind him as Rhaenys stirred from her spot. Her bare skin was covered in soot and ashes, not a hint of clothing remaining on her body. She struggled to rid her lungs of the smoke, which burned with every cough. Her teary eyes were frozen in shock as they focused on his body, muddied and sooted, but unburnt. 

Before his mind could even comprehend their situation, all hell broke loose. Seemingly within a blink of an eye, Aegon was struck by a projectile, the weighted nets ensnaring the dragon before it crashed into the ground with a loud thud. 

Jon whipped his head around to his back, where Robb and the men were stationed along with the catapults. Even to his well-trained eye, they were difficult to spot ― hidden well within the thick reeds and crumbled ruins. Only the faintest of glints underneath the sun gave away their position as the catapults hurled countless more projectiles towards them.

_This was not part of their plan. Should the negotiations fail, they were supposed to feint retreat in order to draw Aegon away from his men and capture him alone. If they reveal their hand too soon, they’ll risk scaring him away and squandering their only opportunity._

Though Jon supposed the plan went out the window the second Aegon decided to burn him in the middle of parley. Robb was now more likely to be out for blood than to follow their original strategy.

As Jon watched the hailstorm of boulders rain down upon them, he knew if he wished to live, he needed to get moving. 

Already, hundreds of men laid dead scattered around them. Some decapitated or with their bodies caved in by the impact of the boulders, others falling victim to the dragon’s rampage as it thrashed around within its ensnarement. Each impact shook the ground with a large thud as the army before him broke formation in a chaotic panic. 

_Now was their only chance._

Jon turned around to find Rhaenys finally shaken out of her shock by the havoc wreaked around them. He let out a small curse as he finally noticed their state of undress. The dragon fire had burned away every layer of clothing, even their small clothes. Even though modesty was the least of their concerns at the moment, Jon averted his eyes from Rhaenys’ form as she tried her best to cover her chest with her arm. 

“Are you alright?” Jon asked as he scanned the battlefield. She only returned with a small hum in affirmation, not trusting her voice to speak right now.

A thundering of hooves sounded from behind them, and Jon turned just in time to pull Rhaenys out of the way of the horse’s path, the panicked animal galloping away from the chaos. There was a terrible limp in its gait, and blood stained the side of its white hide. Jon looked back to find its rider thrown not too far away from them, his limp body lying motionless on the ground. 

“Stay with me.” Jon said as he began leading Rhaenys towards the man, their bare feet sinking slightly into the wet bogs. Jon’s eyes remained on the lookout, searching for any incoming dangers; and they settled on the man as they approached him slowly. 

The sigil on the man’s breastplate revealed his allegiance to House Tyrell, and judging by the armor, not just an ordinary foot soldier either. A long trail of blood led from his head as he showed no signs of movement. A head wound like that was likely to be fatal, but Jon unsheathed the blade at the man’s hip and slit his throat to make sure. 

A small gurgle of blood was the last sound he made.

“Help me strip his clothing.” Jon ordered as he began untying the breeches before slipping the boots off the corpse before him. He felt a bit of bile rise in his throat as he stepped into the pants of a dead man, but he forced himself to swallow his disgust. _There is no other choice, surviving was more important than his honor._

Picking up the blade from the ground, Jon sheathed the sword before strapping it to his own waist. 

“Why is it that you get the breeches?” Rhaenys asked with a hint of annoyance. Jon looked over to find her slipping on a white tunic, leaving the corpse bear as its name day on the ground. 

“Because that tunic is large enough to fit you like a dress.” Jon answered with a quip. In truth though, it did little to cover Rhaenys’ modesty, a slight hint of her nipple still showing through the thin fabric. Jon had to fight down his blush as he reached down to grab the cloak attached to the man’s armor. 

“Here you go, _princess._ ” Jon said as he draped the cloak around her shoulders.

Rhaenys shot a look with as much glare as she could muster before wrapping the furs tightly around her frame, her own blush refusing to fade from her skin. But before she could even shoot back a retort, she let out a surprised shriek at the charging horse behind him.

“Look out!”

Jon dodged barely in time as he felt the blade fly past above him, narrowly missing his head. Amidst the chaos and panic, someone seemed to have found him at the worst time. It was hardly a few seconds before the man reared his horse around for another charge.

_Another Tyrell knight._

Jon quickly unsheathed his sword as he pushed Rhaenys out of the way. He knew he was at a severe disadvantage against charging cavalry without a spear, but it seems he’d have to make due with a sword. Not giving him any more time to react, the man charged, bringing his own blade down in a deadly arc. 

Without a shield, armor, or even a leather jerkin, Jon had only one choice to make. In a fluid motion, Jon lunged forward, thrusting his blade into the man’s underarms before he could even bring down his own blade. The strike was quick and true, piercing straight through the man’s shoulder between where the plates of armor met. 

An agonizing scream was heard as the force of the blow through the man from his horse. But Jon didn’t even spare a look back at the man writhing on the ground as he swung atop the man’s horse with a single jump, urging it forward towards Rhaenys. 

With an easy move, Jon lifted Rhaenys’ body onto the horse, setting her into the saddle in front of him. Her bare legs peeked out from beneath the cloak, but Rhaenys held on without complaint as Jon rode off away from the chaos. They watched as countless more boulders pelted the earth crushing Aegon’s army beneath. By the time they could even organize a retreat, it had already been too late. Nearly a quarter of the men laid incapacitated ― knocked unconscious, with broken limbs or severed heads. Aegon’s dragon continued to struggle as the net tightened around its body, restricting its wings and any other movement.

_Little did they know… that was only the beginning._

Any thoughts at retreating South were quickly cut off as scores of soldiers fell to arrows raining from the sky. The crannogmen were unassuming in appearance, small in stature and poorly armed, but Jon knew they were among the best archers in the world. Hidden within their own bogs, it’d be nearly impossible to fight the crannogmen in their own terrain.

Switching away from the weighted nets, Jon watched as the catapults now fired flaming projectiles into the enemy ranks. Stones wrapped in oil-soaked cloth were lit on fire before they were sent hurtling towards Aegon’s men. Trails of fire and smoke streaked through the Northern sky as they found their targets in the confused mayhem. 

Even from this distance, they could hear the squelch as the stones crushed dozens of bodies beneath it. Rhaenys choked back a sob at the sheer destruction before her. 

_This was not what they conquered Westeros for… to have thousands of men meet their brutal deaths in this way… to never return home to their families… It was everything they’d wished to end, and now they were the ones creating more strife._

Jon seemed to share her thoughts as he looked on at the slaughter with pity and regretful eyes. He knew that the men giving their lives on the battlefield had little choice in the matter. Common folk and foot soldiers rarely do in the conflicts of the higher-born. Jon had tried his best to convince himself this was for the good of the North and the safety of his family and his people, but he’d long grown sick of war. 

The war in the South had brought him nothing but pain and grief. Men he’d eat with and come to know dying countlessly by his side. By the end of it all, Jon was tired of it all, yearning to return home to Winterfell. This was no doubt a similar experience for the men on the battlefield now ― a harsh lesson to the greenboys who marched in the name of glory. 

“Jon. We have to stop this now.” Rhaenys pleaded with him. “Please, let me speak to Aegon. The men will surrender―”

A loud screech pierced the battlefield as Rhaegal wailed in pain. Its side had been hit by one of the flaming projectiles that bombarded the enemy lines, and its left wing was clearly in bad shape. The young dragon was tiring out, Jon could tell just from the struggling as it got weaker and weaker.

“Egg…” Rhaenys whispered in horror as she stared at the dragon in the distance. The blood soaked along the dragon’s side was clearly not just its own. Aegon was slumped over in his saddle, not a sign of movement from his body. The left side of his torso was a bloody mess, no doubt having been struck by the impact. 

Just then a series of warhorns blasted through the air as the Northern army charged. Hundreds of banners flew in the wind as the men converged on the battlefield. _Direwolves, Mermen, Roaring Giants, and Bears._ The Northmen were upon their enemies in a matter of seconds, their cavalry the first to reach the enemy.

The panicked Dornishmen and Reachmen could hardly put up a fight as they were cut down with ease. It was a complete slaughter as Aegon’s army was flanked from all sides with any attempt to retreat South cut off by the crannogmen. 

Having scrambled West away from the battlefield, Jon had a clear view of the battle before him. His eyes found Robb, riding at the front of their cavalry with their direwolves, slicing through the enemies with viscous swings. He was out for blood. Jon just knew it ― his brother was no doubt in a vengeful rage to kill the Targaryen. He’d have been the same if they’d burned Robb.

But somehow he was still alive and breathing, unburnt from the dragon fire. Somehow he had to get to Robb before he did something terrible. 

“Jon, please.” Rhaenys pleaded once again. “… He’s still my brother, I can’t watch him die like this.”

With a quick sigh, Jon urged his horse forward, charging back towards the thick of battle.

* * *

Robb could hardly hear the screams around him as his sword cut through countless men on the battlefield. It felt as if he was submerged beneath a pool of water, all the sounds were drowned out by the rage in his head. His _wolfsblood_ was boiling within his veins, and all he saw was red. The foot soldiers stood no chance as he rode them down before they were finished off by Greywind. 

Everything was a blur to Robb. He couldn’t tell whether it was tears or sweat in his eyes, but his body was moving all on its own, his mind was still reeling from the shock of watching Jon die before his very eyes. The image of Jon swallowed by dragon fire would forever be burned into Robb’s mind. It was scary how quickly the horror had turned into a vengeful rage, looking to end the Targaryens here and now. 

The only thing to save Robb from the spear headed straight for his chest was the last bit of instincts that kicked in, throwing himself from his saddle to dodge the spear thrust. His horse had continued riding onwards as his body came to a skidding halt, the snows and wet bogs bracing his fall. Miraculously, his sword had remained in his hand, and luckily so, it was the only thing that allowed Robb to deflect the oncoming barrage of attacks. 

His enemy was unrelenting as they continued to push forth with their spear. Robb knew he was at a terrible disadvantage with range, and he barely dodged another deadly thrust as he rolled out of the way. The distance allowed him a split second to study his opponent. 

_A middle aged Dornishman… tall stature, strong build, but hardly a hint of armor on the man._

There was no doubt the man was a skilled warrior, however, as he twirled his spear around skillfully. Even in his rage, Robb knew he was outmatched. Not just by the weapon, but also as a warrior. _This had to be the Red Viper of Dorne._ The confidence in his smirk only confirmed Robb’s suspicions as he lunged forward once again. 

Robb was able to parry and deflect his blindingly fast spear, but he was forced on the defensive with no chance to counterattack, the Dornish spear-user not allowing him a single opening to close the distance. 

However, before the fight could even develop further, Robb was quickly flanked by his own bannerman, with Dacey Mormont and Smalljon Umber at his sides. 

“Is this how you Northmen fight? Outnumbering your opponents?” Oberyn taunted with a smirk, his Dornish accent dripping heavily from his tone. “I’d expected more from the _King in the North_ , everybody said your father was the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms, I must say I’m disappointed.”

“This isn’t some fucking duel.” Robb snarled as Oberyn’s face hardened at the response to his taunt. “There is no honor in war, I’ve learned that long ago. _This_ is us slaughtering your people for what you’ve done. I was wrong to show you any mercy, but it all ends here. Your King will die by my blade, and I’ll put an end to House Targaryen once and for all.”

With nothing but a low growl, Oberyn lept into action. The Dornish prince was as deadly as his name suggested, his strikes were as quick and accurate as a viper. But no matter how skilled a warrior he is, the man was no match for the three Northerners, each formidable in their own right.

“Don’t let him cut you.” Dacey warned as she dodged out of the way of a thrust. “There’s poison on the spear tips.” 

It wasn’t long before Oberyn finally over extended himself, reaching forwards too far with a thrust towards the female warrior. With a strong swing from her morningstar, Oberyn’s spear was shattered to bits, leaving only the wooden staff within his hands. 

“Any last words?”

The Red Viper only stared back in defiance as his hand tightened around the small blade strapped at his side.

Robb moved in to finish him off before a voice froze him in his steps.

“Robb!”

He turned, eyes searching wildly to find Jon seated upon a horse riding towards him, covered only in breeches and soot marks all over his body. Robb could hardly believe his eyes. The brother he’d thought he’d lost was here right before him, undead and unburnt. 

_But… how?_

“The battle’s over, Robb.” Jon informed as he pointed to their surroundings. Most of their enemies either laid dead at their feet, or threw down their arms in surrender at seeing Oberyn’s defeat. “There’s no need to kill anymore…”

“But I watched them burn you…” Robb said in confusion. “They tried to kill you in the middle of parley, they deserve whatever’s coming to them.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Robb. I’m still here, and no one else needs to die. The war is won.”

“The war is not won, boy.” Oberyn retorted with a snarl. “So long as I’m still standing, this is not over.” 

They turned their attention back to the Red Viper as he drew the small blade strapped at his side. It seemed the Dornish Prince had made his mind to die fighting, and Robb would not hesitate to grant the man his wish. 

“Stand down! Uncle.” Rhaenys yelled at the last second, stopping Robb’s blade inches away from his neck. “There’s no point in fighting any longer. We’ve lost.”

Looking around the battlefield, Oberyn frowned at the sight surrounding him. _That fat fool of a Tyrell, of course they’d been the first to surrender._ Even Aegon laid incapacitated with his dragon, as the Northmen warily surrounded the unconscious beast. Oberyn eyed the man before him carefully, measuring him up. _If he could just slip the blade into the King in the North, it could all be over…_

“Enough!” Rhaenys exclaimed, noticing the glint in his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself, or have you forgotten who I am?”

“Of course not. Forgive me princess.” Oberyn relented as he threw his blade to the ground with a hateful glare towards the Northmen. 

Satisfied with the response, Rhaenys slowly approached the King in the North. Her steps were hesitant as her bare legs waded through the wet ground stained by blood. The cloak did little to cover her, but Jon followed closely behind, offering her the reassurance she needed for what she needed to do. 

She came to a stop before Robb Stark, looking him eye to eye before she dipped her head in a small bow of surrender. “I apologize on behalf of House Targaryen for the actions of my brother. If you would be gracious enough to allow us, we’d like to negotiate the terms of our surrender.”  
  
“Aye, and why should I?” Robb questioned with a hint of anger in his tone. “By all right, you’ve forfeited any mercy the moment you broke the laws and attacked my people under parley. Why should I trust anything you have to say?”   
  
“Please, your grace.” Rhaenys bent her head even lower. It ate away at her pride to do so, but she knew this was the price of Aegon’s actions, and more often than not, she was the one that had to pay for them.

Robb looked over to Jon who gave a small nod, his eyes silently pleading at him to accept. He’d always known Jon was a better person than him. _Quicker to forgive… Easier to please…_ But Robb was not the same. The rage simmering in his blood refused to calm even after seeing Jon alive and well. 

But alas, Robb agreed to the princess’s request. They’d gotten what they wanted after all, and he wondered if his father would’ve shown the same mercy in his place. Robb had asked that question so many times, he didn’t even know anymore. It was all he could do to follow what he felt was right… Oftentimes having to ignore his rash impulses and listen to the voice of reason that stood beside him. 

“I accept your surrender.” Robb turned back towards Rhaenys. “But don’t take this mercy as a sign of weakness. If you make me regret this decision, I promise no one in the seven hells will stop me from destroying you next time.”

Rhaenys only gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

“Very well.” Robb said with a small sigh. “All that leaves now is the dragon―”

But before Robb could finish his words, Rhaegal slowly stirred awake, the flames of its breath brewing in its snout as it eyed the Northmen surrounding it. 

_Enemies,_ it recognized.

_Burn._


	14. Captive

**Daenerys**

Every single part of her body ached as Dany slumped back into her restraints, failing for the countless time to break out of them.  _ It was no use. _ Whoever had tied her to this post had been very cautious, leaving nothing within her reach. Her skin burned from where the rope rubbed against her wrists, and her limbs were beginning to cramp behind her back. A silent sob escaped her at the hopelessness of it all. Ever since she awakened, there was only darkness and the slow rocking of the ship. Hardly a single noise aboard the ship or the crew, only the sounds of waves crashing against the ship.

A part of her still remained in shock at what had happened.  _ How could everything have gone so terribly? _ Even now, the sound of that horn remained ringing in her ears, the terrible noise refusing to fade. A wave of nausea started building up within Dany’s stomach, slowly worsening with every rock of the ship.

From the moment the horn blasted through the air, she knew something was terribly wrong. It felt as if someone had cut away a piece of her body ― the connection with Viserion had felt as real as her own limbs. Without it now, Dany felt more lost than ever. Even moreso than before she’d ever hatched those dragon eggs… before she’d ever realized the possibility of returning home to Westeros. 

Back then, she had nothing. No possessions… no home… no dreams… Just a naive girl who only knew her silver hair and velvet eyes brought misfortune upon them.

But now that she’d found hope, and with everything so close in their grasps, she was about to lose everything. It all felt like a cruel trick by the gods, to make her believe once again only to snatch it away at the last second. 

_ It wasn’t fair. All the gods have ever done was to take and take and take. Even the one thing that she’d thought to be invincible, that was out of their clutches, they’d still taken it away from her. _

Try as she might, but Viserion was gone. Not a single trace of him no matter how hard she tried to reach out with her mind. All that she met was an empty void. 

_ Was Viserion dead? Did he lay at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, taken down by those damned Krakens?  _ It pained Dany that she didn’t even have a way of knowing. The only thing that she knew was the fact that whatever horn they’d used had been imbued with some strange sorcery.

It was an odd idea for Dany to believe. That anyone else in this world could have the power to affect their dragons. Perhaps that was their biggest mistake ― the belief that the magic in their Targaryen blood was what made them rightfully the most powerful. When in fact, there were clearly others in this world that possessed magic beyond their understanding, those who posed much more than just a threat to their dragons. 

_ From Jon Snow to these Greyjoys, Dany knew her family had made a terrible mistake in underestimating their enemies, and now they were paying the price.  _

Daenerys’ mind continued to fester with these thoughts as she stewed in silence. Beneath the deck of the ship, there was nothing left to Daenerys but her sorrows and pain. Gods know where they’re taking her. For all she knew, they must’ve defeated the entire Royal Fleet. 

_ How long had it been? A few days? A fortnight? _ It was already difficult to keep track of time, but with Daenerys slipping in and out of consciousness, there was no way to tell how long they’d been at sea. They could be arriving in Essos for all she knew. 

The anxiousness of not knowing anything was beginning to get to Daenerys. She had no answers to her dragon, no idea of their whereabouts, and only silence to accompany her.  _ She was all alone again… alone in the world.  _

A cynical part of her wondered if this was what drove her father mad. Having everything taken away with nothing left to you but your own thoughts and fears. When she’d grown up in Essos, she’d heard plenty of stories of the Mad King, and how he burned subjects alive with a manic smile on his face. But from the likes of Ser Barristan, she’d also learned that he wasn’t always like that. At the beginning of his reign, he’d been a good king ― one who brought peace and prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the madness had always been within him… perhaps Duskendale was the last straw that robbed Aerys the Second of any sanity he had left within him, but in the end, it was all the same. Forever a stain in the history books and their family name. 

When she’d first learned of her heritage, Daenerys had nearly broken down at hearing the terrible things done by her own father.  _ Perhaps they were the ones at fault. The men sent to assassinate them had more reason to kill them than not; her father had been the worst king in the history of Westeros. But it wasn’t until she saw the look in Aegon’s eyes did she believe that perhaps they deserved more than suffering for the sins of her father. The determination, the dreams, the hope, and the love…  _

He’d made her believe once again, along with their dragons and the loyal men supporting them, that regardless of what the Mad King had done, they were capable of bringing good to the world ― to rule the Seven Kingdoms justly and allow peace to prosper. 

But here she was now, stowed away below the deck of a Greyjoy ship, captive and at their mercy. It was hard to see any hope in her situation. Perhaps they were all fated to meet the same end as her father, a punishment for carrying the Targaryen blood in their veins. Perhaps it truly was their blood.  _ Dragonsblood  _ her brother Viserys had called it, the craze in his eyes showing even at his young age. It was as they said, every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. The madness stirs in them all, but it only takes one thrust for them to be completely consumed by it all. Her father had been one… It wasn’t a stretch for Daenerys to believe that perhaps, one day, she too would be…

But any thoughts of that were cut off as she heard footsteps descend from the deck above, the small creaking of the wooden planks were jarring to the silence that’d permeated the ship. 

Daenerys swallowed slowly in fear. She was at the complete mercy of her captors; they could do anything to her, and she’d not be able to do a thing to stop them. Subconsciously, she tried to back away further from the door, but the ropes had held tight, keeping her rooted to the wooden post. 

The shadows in the room danced ominously as the man approached, shrouded in darkness save for the small torch alight on the side of the wall. Daenerys squinted at the sight of her captor, but she’d only been able to see his eye.  _ Wild and ruthless, a small bit of madness of his own glinting in the torchlight.  _

“Who are you?” Daenerys forced her tone to be even, refusing to show a single ounce of weakness to her captor. But even so, her voice had been raspy, the words scratching uncomfortably in her throat. 

“It was a mistake of you to not know who I am, Daenerys Stormborn.” Even his voice was sinister, carrying a measure of malice. 

Now up close, Daenerys could see he had one of his eyes covered, and the other stared into the depths of her soul seeing right through her facade. 

“I am the greatest man to ever raise sail. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my ship, they pray. I’ve taken Kingship over the Iron Islands, and soon everything will be mine. Even the Iron Throne.” The sinister dripping in his voice was not lost on Daenerys. The man was as evil as he was mad, his single eye glinting with wildness.

“Euron Greyjoy. You’d do well to remember my name when you pray at night, for I will take everything away from you. Your throne... your family... your dragons… your life.” 

The smile on his face got wider with every word as he stared at Daenerys menacingly. His hand shot forward grasped Daenerys’ jaw in his clasp, tilting her head up to look him directly in his eye. His fingers dug painfully into her cheek and neck, holding her in place despite her struggles. 

“When I take the Iron Throne, I’ll need a salt wife by my side.” Euron sneered gleefully. “Isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To have a crown upon your pretty head? I can tell, you’d do well as an obedient little bedslave, wouldn’t you?”

Daenerys did the only thing she could, and spat in the man’s face with as much hatred as she could muster. But it didn’t even seem to faze Euron one bit as his hold tightened around her neck. 

“You’re a fool… if you think you can take King's Landing with your men.” Daenerys squeezed out, her face slowly turning red as she struggled for air. “The people would put a sword through their own gut before they see a Greyjoy on the Iron Throne. You’ll never take the city.”

Daenerys only received a sinister smile in return. “We’re not sailing for King’s Landing, you stupid girl. There’s something far greater that I want right now. Something you’re more than familiar with” His lone eye glinted wildly as he saw the realization in Daenerys’ eyes. 

“Then you’re an even bigger fool.” Daenerys spat out in reply. “Aegon will destroy your ships and your men if you even try to face him in battle. He doesn’t just have a dragon, he has an entire army. You wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on him even with your drowned god on your side.”

“You still fail to realize, Daenerys Stormborn. I need no god on my side to lay waste to your brother and his armies. The Drowned God… the Old Gods… the Gods of Death… R'hllor… I’ve served them all, but now…  _ I  _ am your God _. _ You’ll pray to me for mercy when your brother lays kneeling by my feet. And then, you’ll know who you bow before. Perhaps, I’ll fuck you then. Right in front of your brother as you watch him die.”

The hate burned in her tears as they rolled down Dany’s cheek, but she could do nothing as Euron carried on. “You thought your dragons made you special, but it only made you weak, and dependent. Without them, you’re nothing but foolish children playing at war. I’ll show you what a real King is… and how to use your dragon.”

His malicious sneer widened as Daenerys’ face sunk in horror. “That’s right. Your dragon is mine now. It’ll obey every command like a slave, and soon you will too. For now, just rest upon the fact that everything you’ve ever loved will be taken away from you”

* * *

**The Neck**

It’d been nearly a miracle that they’d gotten to Rhaegal before he could set fire to all the men surrounding it. Rhaenys still wasn’t sure that it would just do so anyway, but it seems they had its attention for now. Jon was still by her side, and equally out of breath. His eyes wild with a hint of worry and fear. 

Rhaenys approached Rhaegal slowly to avoid startling the young dragon. She could tell from its frantic movements that it was just as scared of them. Rhaenys prayed that the dragon would be able to see her clearly, and recognize her for what she is ― family. But with Aegon slumped unconscious in the saddle and the dragon limping around awkwardly, it had to be difficult to get through all the pain and confusion that was no doubt clouding the dragon’s mind.

Jon debated with himself whether he’d be able to skinchange into this dragon as he’d done with Rhaenys’ dragon. All he had to do was reach out with his mind, as he’d done with Ghost thousands of times. He’d done this before…

_ But would he be able to subdue this dragon? It was also exhausted and scared as Eliaxes had been, but Jon knew this situation was far different. The magic near Winterfell was far stronger than anywhere else in the North save for the Wall. The Godswood… Winterfell itself… it gave Jon more power than anywhere else, and he knew his warging would be far weaker here in the Neck.  _

_ Robb had been quick to insist Jon’s ability to control dragons, but Jon saw it for what it truly was. A miracle that they were fortunate to have happened. Everything had to align perfectly for Jon to have warged into Rhaenys’ dragon, and Jon doubted he’d be able to do so once again. For all of Rhaenys’ fiery temperament, her dragon was as docile as her namesake ― the Princess Elia. Gentle and kind, but strong when needed to be. Rhaenys had told him one of the many nights when he’d visited her chambers while she was captive.  _

Looking at the dragon before him now, he knew his chances were extremely low at being able to subdue it. Any small mistake, and he would no doubt send it on a terrible rampage. Glancing towards Rhaenys at his side, he knew he had to trust the princess in what she was doing. 

It was an amazing sight really, to see Rhaenys slowly approach the dragon in nothing but a thin cloak and her hand outstretched to the hulking dragon before her. Jon could only watch on in stunned silence as the princess stood unflinchingly in front of the dragon’s intimidating screech, not backing down one step.

_ There is no other like her.  _ Jon admired as her hair flew wildly behind her, and her eyes stared ahead with a determined glint.  _ She was a great sight to behold, a warrior princess who showed as much courage as beauty. _

The dragon finally began to calm down as it bent down to sniff Rhaenys’ hand, allowing her to rub soothingly along the scales of its snout. All around them, Jon was aware of the men watching the interaction, each keeping their wary distance. 

“You have to help me, Jon. We have to cut away the nets. It’s hurting Rhaegal, and we have to get Aegon from his saddle.” Rhaenys turned towards him, her eyes in silent pleading as she watched Jon look on doubtfully. “Please. I promise it won’t hurt anyone. It’ll listen to me, but we have to help him before he grows impatient.”

Jon looked on astoundedly as the dragon eyed him with suspicion, but he could only sigh as he knew there was no other choice. Moving forward slowly, Jon followed Rhaenys’ example as his hand slowly approached the dragon, as non threatening as possible. 

Jon held his breath as his hand finally came in contact with the scaly snout of the dragon. The white and gold plates of its scales were as large as his palms, and scalding hot beneath his touch. But strangely, Jon only felt a gentle warmth as his hand stroked across the dragons muzzle.

Despite everything, Rhaenys found herself staring in surprise as the dragon allowed Jon such familiarity. It’d never happened with anyone else, even the Kingsguards who watched them hatch and grow into sizable beasts needed to be wary around them, but now it was already twice that a dragon had allowed Jon Snow to approach with such intimacy.

In the depths of her mind, Rhaenys knew there was more to it than meets the eye, but there was hardly time at all to ponder upon it. 

“Distract it while I cut away the ropes.” Jon said as he began moving around the dragon.

Rhaenys felt the dragon tense slightly beneath her touch, but Rhaegal remained still as Jon unsheathed his sword.

It felt as if it took more than an hour as Jon cut through the thick ropes in tense silence, but through it all, Rhaegal had remained still, save for a few movements to adjust his wings as he was freed.

Aegon was in much worse shape.

His entire left side was a bloody mess, even his black and red garments visibly stained with blood. His entire left limb from shoulder to arm was crushed to its bone, hanging to the side at an inhuman angle.  _ A boulder must’ve struck him directly in the shoulder.  _ It was a miracle in and of itself that he wasn’t dead already, as Jon checked his breathing that grew fainter within the second.

_ A dark part of Jon’s mind told him to just end it here. Aegon had tried to kill him after all, it would only be right. He wouldn’t even have to do anything, Aegon was likely on his last breaths anyway.  _ But one glance over to Rhaenys, and Jon knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. She’d surrendered their army already, and if the North wanted peace henceforth, they would need a King in the South as well. Keeping Aegon alive was necessary despite what he’d done, it was just up to them to deal with the aftermath.

Waving over a few of his men, Jon gently removed Aegon’s body from the saddle, careful to avoid further aggravating any injuries. The was hardly a maester within a day’s ride of the battlefield, but they’d have to make do with the healer at hand. 

Despite everything, Rhaenys breathed a sigh of relief as the adrenaline from the battle left her body, leaving her slumping in Jon’s arms. 

_ They’d lost the war, but they were still alive.  _ Rhaenys supposed she should be glad for that at the very least. Somehow the gods had spared their lives in the midst of the chaos, and Rhaenys clung slightly tighter to Jon in relief. 

_ Jon was still alive… They were still alive. Aegon was now the North’s prisoner, and the conflict was far from over, but Rhaenys had respite in the fact that perhaps there was still hope in the horizon. _


End file.
